


Yes, Your Majesty

by DutchHarrison



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Armitage Hux is Not Nice, Cruelty, Dominant Kylo Ren, Dubious Consent, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Forced Marriage, Forced Relationship, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Non-Consensual Spanking, Physical Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Kylo Ren, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex, Slow Build, Spanking, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:14:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 83,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24633640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DutchHarrison/pseuds/DutchHarrison
Summary: AU where Kylo Ren is the (very dominant) King of EnglandWritten in Reader First Person, Desirey is the daughter of the king that Kylo and his family deposedThere will be NON-CON in this story.Also featuring more than the average amount of world building with references to historical titles and places (and fashion).
Relationships: Ben Solo | Kylo Ren & Reader, Kylo Ren/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 110
Kudos: 233





	1. Visitors

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of the character in this story that are associated or affiliated with Star Wars or Lucasfilms. This is a work of imagination.

“Your highness, the delegation has arrived.” 

I turned quickly from my sparse dressing table at the sound of my maid’s soft voice behind me. 

“Anna please!” I hissed. “If they hear you saying those words we’ll both be locked in the tower.”

Anna lowered her eyes to the floor and bobbed an obedient curtsey. The defiant clench in her forehead reminded me that I would always be the rightful Queen of England in her eyes. And while I agreed with her, this was no time to behave boldly, what with the presence of the Duke of Norfolk and the King’s Knights of Ren within the estate. There were eyes and ears everywhere, even in what I considered my sanctuary. 

“Please check the back of my hair, Anna. I’m not sure I have the comb right.” As Anna moved behind me to adjust the ebony comb, I took a glance in the mirror and felt the same irritation rise up in me that had been there ever since I was notified that the King’s men were coming for a visit. It was not enough to be exiled from my rightful place, I also have to suffer repeated spying from the same men that should be supporting my reign, not that of the usurper, King Kylo Ren. Seeing my cheeks flush in the old looking glass, I make an effort to take deep breaths. 

The last thing I need is Norfolk to see me bothered.

Anna was almost finished adjusting my hair and giving it a few extra curls with the curling wand. She was much better at making me look presentable than I was and I regretted snapping at her earlier. When she put the rod back into the metal cylinder on the table, I reached for her hand. 

“Thank you. I appreciate your care for me. I worry for both of us, especially during these…visits…”

Anna grips my hand back and smiles. “You will show those men your grace and beauty, just as you always have. They will be reminded of their betrayal and run back to their crowned pig for another year.” I smile at Anna’s description of the king and let out a small laugh. She smiles too and smooths the sleeves of my gray gown before kneeling down to fiddle with a string at my hem. 

Anna was right. The King sent his men once a year to reprimand and investigate me for countless treasonous deeds I had no part in, while continuing to remind me that I was no longer my father’s heir to the throne, and that Kylo Ren was our Supreme Leader. It had been like this since I was eleven years old.  
By eleven I was confident in my role as the next Queen of England, the only surviving child of my father, King Henry. My mother was lost to me when I was young as a result of the plague and my father had insisted that he remain unmarried. There were grumblings from the nobles regarding a female heir, but my father was loved by our people and was fair. England had prospered for almost three decades under his leadership. They accepted his choice and I reveled in the love of our people, and especially the love of my father.

This all changed when the Duke of Northumberland and his son began to gain support. Northumberland was an old man, part of one of the oldest and most powerful families in England. He and my father had been friends since they were young. He was my father’s most trusted advisor and favored endlessly at court. Northumberland seemed to have been lying in wait to overthrow my father when it became clear that he would not provide a male heir, with the promise to the country to make his son his heir and thus maintain a King for England, instead of a woman who was unfit to rule. 

The coup took under fifteen hours to complete.  
At the end of those bloody hours, my father was dead, my household had been disbanded, and I was shuttled quietly away to my estate at Hatfield. This is where I have lived in the mean time, as Northumberland returned England to a male governed mentality. I am ashamed to say that it did not take long for the people of my country and the foreign monarchs to become assimilated to the idea that Northumberland was the rightful King and that his son would follow behind him. Nine years later, Northumberland had the good sense to die from consumption and thus peacefully pass the mantle of monarch on to his son. King Kylo Ren has ruled the kingdom for the past two years. 

I have never forgotten my rightful place as the Queen of my country. Nor the fact that the dark haired boy with the crooked smile, that helped me ride a horse and was taught to shoot a bow and arrow by my father, is the man who helped usurp my father and remains the Supreme Head of our nation. And while I have never raised a hand or an army against him in all of my years of exile, my heart and my mind remain that of a true queen. 

Anna interrupts my musings as she pulls front strings of my bodice just the tiniest bit tighter. I know she wants me to look my best, to remind the men who betrayed me that I am still the daughter of their formerly exalted King Henry, once the most sought after prize in the developed world. She and I are still unsure of whether this reminder is what is keeping me alive, or if it will ultimately lead to my death. 

We’ll have to see. 

I rise and move toward the doors to my chamber while Anna follows just a few steps behind me. My guards open the doors along the way as I move through each hall on my way to the receiving chamber. 

The heavy chamber doors are finally opened for me, and as I enter the room, I find His Grace, the Duke of Norfolk, Armitage Hux sitting in the place of honor at my table, in my chair. He doesn’t look up at me. 

While nothing in my estate is of the quality it should be for a woman of my status, I am still irked by his rudeness and immediate attempts to try to put me in my place. He pulls at the thinning brocade on the arm of my chair and rips one of the threads off before tossing it on the ground. 

So much for remaining calm, I think as I feel my cheeks burn. His behavior is intentional. We loathe each other in equal measure. 

Reaching the base of the dais where he is seated, I drop into the curtsy with only the slightest incline of my head. Two can play at this game and I certainly will, I think as I keep my eyes level with his face. He’s finally deigned to look me in the eyes, but his expression is bored until he realizes I have not shown him the respect I am required to display to one of superior rank. 

He raises an eyebrow and stands.

“Desirey Lancaster, thank you for finally joining us.” He purposely does not give me the courtesy title of ‘Lady’ before my name and copies the minute bow of my head. “We were starting to wonder if perhaps you had lost you way, but I assured the others there is no possible way that could have happened, what with the meager size of this dwelling.” He looked over his shoulder at the faded tapestries on the wall, while a few of the Knights of Ren chuckle in the corner. I refuse to look at them or even acknowledge their presence. 

I push my shoulders back in an effort to stand up taller. My dance instructors from my youth would have been proud at my poise and the gentle curve of my back as I stared straight at the Duke of Norfolk.  
“I arrived in a timeline appropriate for the reception of a guest such as yourself. I’m sure you can understand why I prefer to have been a few moments late, your company being what it is.” 

There were no chuckles from the Knights at this slight. The Duke glared at me before sitting back in my chair. 

“Tut tut,” he muttered as he once again began pulling at the brocade threads. “I’ll never understand how your spirit remains so strong after all this time. One would think you would have accepted your lot in life and would understand that your superiors control your future, and more importantly whether you live or die. I struggle to find any plausible reason for His Majesty to keep your sour countenance on this earth.” He stands and begins to pace along the dais above me. 

I take a deep breath.  
“Careful, Hux. One might overhear your disparaging remarks about His Majesty and think that you are disloyal”. I smile sweetly up at him, knowing that my concern for his wellbeing is a farce and he knows it. “Let us get to the purpose of your visit. Have their been more rebellions? The crops have failed? What have you come to accuse me of this time? As you say, I have no place in our country and cannot be expected to maintain the ability to command the people so many years after the accession of His Majesty’s family.” 

I am careful not to roll my eyes at this. Hux knows I do not have the funds, foreign finances, or ability to call the people to rebellion. They wouldn’t come even if I begged. These people prayed for peace and they have had it all these years. They would not gamble that on the forgotten daughter of their old king. Especially when there was no loss of life to the common people during and after the coup. 

Hux pauses in his pacing and begins to step down from the dais, approaching me at a leisurely pace. 

“While I am certain that treason abounds in your mind, we have been unable to prove that which you are certainly party to. Please know that when you do make the grievous error to move against King Kylo, I will take great pleasure in being the one to personally determine how you will atone for your actions in the tower.”

He is in front of me now, smiling down at me from his considerable height. There is only a fraction of a second before his eyes dart down to the neckline of my gown and linger on my breasts. I attempt to hold in a breath to keep them from heaving up toward his eyes as I breathe. This is not the first time Hux has looked at me inappropriately. Ever since my eighteenth birthday his hatred and interest has walked an increasingly thin line. 

It takes all of my self control not to take a step back from him. His green eyes are beautiful, but they hold no kindness. I know that given the opportunity, this man would destroy me. I am a risk to his male dominated world, and he would remove me if he was given the chance. Not for the first time I wonder how I have been allowed to remain alive. 

Hux continues to speak as he walks a small circle around me. 

“His Majesty, King Kylo Ren is celebrating his thirtieth birthday in the coming weeks. The court clamors for him to celebrate his life and the start of his reign. There have not been sufficient celebrations since he came out of mourning for his father.”

I briefly recall hearing that the King refused to wear anything but black for over a year to honor his father. A luxury that was denied me at the loss of mine.

“Long may he reign.” I mutter softly, attempting to quickly pull up my neckline before Hux walks around to the front of me again. 

“Amen,” Hux replies and crosses himself.  
I struggle not to roll my eyes. As if anything about Armitage Hux is even the slightest bit holy.

“This event is set to be attended by representatives of all the major nations of Europe. It has been decided that you will join His Majesty at court for the proceedings.”  
I looked up sharply at these words.

Me? Go to court? 

My heart begins to race. I haven't been to court since I was hauled out kicking and screaming by the guards that were once there to protect me. My heart leaps for a split second at the thought of seeing one of the palaces that had once been my home. Of running down the corridors to my old rooms. Of smelling the roses in the garden planted by my mother. 

“Of course,” Hux drawled. “You will be under constant surveillance and direction by members of His Majesty’s council and will be expected to behave accordingly. And while I do not approve of this decision, it has been decided by the council that you must be present, as a reminder to our fellow monarchs who is the King and who has been conquered.” Hux stopped pacing again and stared at me, smirking. There was something about the way he said the word ‘conquered’ that made my mouth go dry. 

Is this is a trap? A plot to get me to the city to put me in the tower? 

I feel myself glare at Hux. 

“And what if I refuse to comply? There is no reason for me to leave this place. I have been imprisoned here with no hope of leaving for years. Why would His Majesty change his mind now?”

Hux was silent. I noticed his hand clench into a fist. 

“This is a direct order from His Majesty, The King. If you refuse to comply, you will be charged with treason and brought to the tower. In chains.” He smiled down at me. “Not an altogether unpleasant thought if you ask me…” A slight shuffle from the Knights, one even has the audacity to whistle. Another laughs in response. 

My composure breaks and I glare in the direction of the Knights watching us. I start to take a step towards them, to what end I cannot fathom, before my wrist is grabbed by Hux. His fingers dig into my skin and I cry out. 

Anna gasps somewhere behind us. I can feel her rage at his actions in the air. 

Hux leans in closer to my face and I panic thinking he is about to kiss me. What he says next just as horrible. 

“Please be assured that whatever protection you currently receive from His Majesty is absolved the moment you refuse to submit. I have been given explicit instructions to bring you to court willingly or unwillingly.”

He pauses, and then…

“I know which way I would prefer to take you.” His eyes glitter at the double entendre and I bite my tongue to keep from vomiting.  
He drops my hand and I immediately take a step back. 

At my silence, he begins to walk toward the Knights and flicks his fingers in the air to call them to command. One in the front takes a step toward me. At the sound of his amour clanging I find my voice. 

“I accept His Majesty’s invitation. However, as you and I and the King all know, I do not have the funds to purchase garments appropriate for court.” I gestured down at my gown, which is well made, but faded and old. The neckline is too low after the unsolicited growth of my breasts following the making of the gown years earlier. Money for the upkeep of my person is difficult to come by. While I wait for Hux to respond I silently hope Anna is not offended by the degradation of a gown she has worked hard to maintain for me. 

Hux laughs and his voice echoes around the chamber.

“Of course you don’t. That is the point you silly girl. Why would the King allow you to look like anything more than the nobody you are? Instruct your servants to pack. We will leave in the morning.”

Hux leaves the chamber with the Knights following close behind. One of my guards opens the door for them and then closes it. I want to be alone with Anna before following them and my guard has assumed that. There are still some that are loyal to me. 

When I turn toward Anna I see wet streaks down her cheeks. 

“Your hi-“ but Anna stops before she says the words that would surely damn her to the tower and leave me without the only person who has loved me since I was a child. We both know someone is surely listening at the door. Her hands hang limply down by her sides. I go to her and clutch her fingers.  
“We must prepare, Anna. I have been summoned.”

My heart sinks.


	2. The Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desirey departs for Hampton Court Palace. When she arrives, she begins her preparations to be presented to the King.

The next morning, I pace impatiently as Anna put the last of my meager possessions in my trunk. 

I am irritable and short tempered after spending most of the night awake anticipating what awaits me at Kylo Ren’s court. 

I cannot decide what is worse. Being brought to the tower immediately and separated from Anna, or being paraded in front of the delegates of Europe to prove how far I have fallen. My riding costume is not in much better shape than my gray gown and I vainly hope that there will be no one outside the castle to see me when I arrive. Anna was kind enough to twist my long bronze hair into an intricate braid and bun. My matching riding hat was pinned jauntily to the side of my head, a preference on my part for the fashion of my childhood. When Anna tells me I look beautiful, I know she is being truthful. My looks are all I have left and it makes me feel proud and shamed at the same time. 

I should be able to offer my country more. 

A knock sounds at my door and we are alerted that it is time to leave. My trunk is brought down to the stable yard where I am once again treated to the misfortune of Duke Hux’s presence. 

I look around for a carriage and realize there is none. They are expecting me to ride a horse the entire way. I can already feel the back of my thighs burning. I flick my eyes back to Hux and notice he has a mare tied on a length of rope to his large stallion. I can only guess what this means. 

“Desirey.” Hux says with a small nod at the mare. His mouth breaks into a small smile.   
I will be tied to him for the journey. Not allowed to ride on my own due to the risk of me running away. Where in God’s name would I run? 

“I can still ride a horse, your Grace. There is no need to keep me on a lead.” I feign ignorance to give him a polite way of backing out of his plan. 

“You ride on the mare or you ride in the saddle with me. Before you decide, know that I have been known to ride hard and without mercy.” He does not even have the good grace to hide his predatory smile at this inappropriate comment. 

My stomach rolls unpleasantly. 

“The mare will suffice, thank you.” I say and approach the horse. She is a light brown color and steps softly in the yard. A squire helps me into the saddle. I get settled and watch as Anna is given a similar place with one of the King’s Knights. My trunk is brought to the back of the line where a wagon is loaded with the supplies of the Duke and the Knights. 

With a sharp snap of the reins of his horse, the Duke leads our party out of the yard toward London. 

The travel takes hours. By the time we are brought into the courtyard at Hampton Court Palace, my legs are sore and my eyes sting from the dust of the road. I am grateful that at the end of September, the air is becoming cool and the heat is not sweltering. The sun has set and the night air is pleasant.   
We disembark from our horses with the help of the squires and common knights employed at Hampton Court. For the first time I see King Kylo’s crest on the livery of his servants.

A gold lion wielding a sword. I am suddenly nostalgic for the Red Rose of Lancaster. A symbol I have not seen for almost a decade. 

I am grateful that it seems to be late enough that there are no members of the court out in the courtyard. No one is here to see my abysmal return to my former home. 

Duke Hux ushers us into the palace. My hands tremble as I walk through the halls that once belonged to me. I am equally comforted and disturbed by the fact that almost nothing has changed. Portraits of my ancestors still line the walls, though I do not see any of my father or me. Tapestries are the same and so are the sconces holding burning tapers and candles. 

Hux leaves us at a small room I’ve never been in before after grunting at me not to attempt to leave my quarters. A guard is left outside the door.  
Anna and I enter and find a sparsely furnished chamber. There is a standard tester bed with old green curtains with a palette on the floor for Anna. A table with two chairs and small fire place. There is a wooden armoire in the corner for our clothes. A small arrow hole window lets in the dusky light of the outdoors. I am grateful to be able to see outside. 

Moments later my trunk is deposited in the room and Anna begins to unpack. I have a lingering thought that perhaps she should not, in the event that we must leave for The Tower quickly. 

However, Anna chatters on about the sights from our travels. I am grateful for her kind disposition. 

“And did you see those sweet children who came out to wave? Even The Duke smiled at them. I wonder that their mother let them off alone at their age, but I’m sure they are quick to mind her when she asks…” Anna pulls my limited clothing out of the trunk and hangs them in the wardrobe. She lays my nightgown on the bed before knocking quickly on the door to ask the guard for water to clean up in. Her request is granted with surprising speed and I find myself cleaning my hands and face with rose scented water from a porcelain bowl. Anna helps me into my night dress before changing into her own. 

“Good night, Anna.” I say as I settle myself under the green blanket that matches the curtains.   
Anna rustles on the pallet next to me and I hear the smile in her voice. 

“Good night, my lady. We will greet whatever comes to us on the morrow!”  
I frown at her cheer. “Greeting” does not seem likely. 

I awake to the sound of dripping water. Anna is at the porcelain bowl washing herself with a cloth. I turn to my other side to try to fall back asleep, but Anna notices.  
“Good Morning, my lady.” She says over her shoulder. The sight of her barely clothed does not bother me. We have lived in close quarters for so long, she is like a sister to me. Albeit one almost eight years my senior. 

“Good Morning, Anna.” I respond and stretch my arms up toward the curtains. I slept better last night. I remove myself from the bed and wait for Anna to help me dress. Chemise, petticoat, corset, gown, it all goes on with a practiced ease. Anna fiddles again the strings at the front of my bodice and lets them out looser. She must have noticed the wandering eyes off Duke Hux and does not wish to grant him the favor of my high breasts again. 

As I wonder idly about what the day will hold there is a knock at the door. Without hesitation, a maid in the King’s livery steps into the chamber and bobs a perfunctory curtsy. 

“Your ladyship will be prepared to meet with the Duke of Norfolk, the council, and His Majesty early this afternoon. A chamber has been made ready for you. Your maid may join you if you wish.”

I glance at Anna who nods at me. I agree to follow the maid and step outside our room. The guard at the door follows us as we weave through the castle. We do not speak as we go. 

We arrive at what I vaguely recall as a chamber in the bathing hall. I am thrilled at the thought of bathing in a true bath space rather than a tin tub.   
The maid opens the door and I find that my guess has been correct. The bathing chamber is beautifully designed with yellow and blue tiles. The dawn is beginning to stream through the glass windows and the air smells like lavender and honey. 

The maid begins to speak and explains that I must be made presentable. She mentions that she has been advised as to how I should be made to look at the request of His Majesty and hopes that I will also be pleased. There is an unspoken reminder in this that I am not to question or refuse. 

“I will not impede your work.” I say simply and a look of relief washes over her face. 

Anna proceeds to remove my clothing while a few more castle maids enter the room. At first I feel shy at all of them seeing me undressed, but remember that this would be my life I were queen. I would never reach for anything, all that I wanted would be brought to be, there would be servants trained specially for my bathing routine. 

As I sink into the water of the bathing basin I notice a maid picking up my old garments and moving toward the door. 

“Stop!” I shout in a mild panic.

Why would they remove my clothing? Would I be presented to the council naked? I feel my cheeks get hot at the thought of the degradation. It would be just like the men in this regime to remove every shred of dignity I hold. 

Anna barks at the maid to approach. She does with her head down. I realize she is young and likely embarrassed to have been called out. 

“Explain yourself.” 

The maid looks up at me and then back down quickly. 

“A member of the council asked me to dispose of your old clothing. He said that it was unseemly that a lady of your position- I mean – that your ladyship should be presented back at court in such a way. He has offered to provide you with clothing that is appropriate for you presentation. It is a gift.”   
Her eyes drop again. 

I bite my lip and wonder who might have seen my arrival last night. I wonder at who this council member might be, that he would think of me kindly. Whoever he is, he has taken a great risk in showing me favor. There is no doubt that Duke Hux will notice. I’m sure the King will too. 

I give her a slight nod and turn back to the scented water and soap I have been using to wash. Anna resumes helping me wash my waist length hair. The maid backs away without another word. 

As Anna rubs a rose scented oil into my scalp, I try to relax. This could be the last bath I have like this. King Kylo could order me executed in the middle of the great hall as a dinner entertainment. I could be being lied to by every single person who has approached me. I recall my history lessons about the Kings that have done away with those that threatened their power. 

While I do not relish the idea that the King would want to remove me, I do feel a fair bit of pride knowing that I am still enough of a threat to require such strict handling.  
Perhaps this is could be used to my advantage?


	3. The Presentation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desirey is presented to King Kylo Ren in the Privy Chamber.

“Please my lady, mind your hair!” Anna admonishes me as we wait in a receiving room to be called to the King’s Privy Chamber. 

I realize again that I have been pulling at the gauzy black veil that has been placed over my head. A small black hood sits just above my hair line keeping the veil over my hair. Anna was pleased by this sign of modesty, but equally irritated that the veil didn’t quite reach the bottom of my hair. I was altogether irritated at having to wear a hood in the first place. I wasn’t a married woman, there was no reason to cover my hair and I never wore a hood at Hatfield. I didn’t attempt to remind Anna of this since there would not have been funds to purchase one for me even if I had wanted to. 

After being bathed I was provided with clothing to wear. I was embarrassed that these garments fit me better than the gown I had arrived in.  
Each undergarment was fresh and made of soft linen. The gown was made of a light burgundy silk with fluttering sleeves. Anna put me in a corset that had strong boning and stays that held me in tightly. Not for the first time was I grateful for my thinner waist as she pulled hard at the ribbons in the back. The bodice of the gown held its own boning too, coming down to a fashionable point in the front. The slippers on my feet were the same color as the gown and just a hair too big. Anna helped me stuff small bits of cotton into the back so that I wouldn’t slip. 

My face had been lightly powdered and rouged in a way that must represent the current style of those at court. A light amount of rouge was applied to my lips.  
When I looked in the mirror I barely recognized myself, but I was pleased. I stood up straighter knowing I was dressed properly. I looked like a true lady of the court, minus the jewels that would have completed the ensemble. I thought back to the long strings of pearls belonging to my mother and how they would have been lovely enough to make the simple gown look regal. 

Looking back at the full length mirror in the receiving chamber, I turned back and forth, admiring the fullness of the gown’s skirt and the way it made my waist seem even smaller. I had never been one to overeat, but I knew the lack of meaty dishes at Hatfield was also to blame for my somewhat slight figure. A small part of me hoped this would seem attractive to men of the council, rather than a sign of poverty and ill health. I quickly practiced a full court obeisance to see how the gown would look as I kneeled before King Kylo. It was not hard to do even after years without practice. Some things were still ingrained in me and could never be erased. I was pleased to feel the slight strain in my legs as I rose again and watched the gown sweep out around me. 

Anna clapped behind me and I turned to sheepishly smile at her. 

“You are elegant as ever, my lady.” She smiled behind me. In the reflection I could see the simple gray gown provided to Anna. I was glad she had been allowed to wash and be dressed in new clothes. 

“Thank you, Anna. I would be lying if I said I regret the care taken with me.”

Anna’s voice dropped “This is still far below what you deserve, my lady. If it were up to me you would be dressed in diamonds every day, with a diadem on your head.”

“With or without my hair out and showing?” I countered and Anna laughed. It was nice to hear in the circumstances. 

The door to the receiving room was opened quickly by a guard and our laughter immediately stopped at the sight of a tall thin man wearing a purple doublet and hose. His shoes were pointed and a long strand of rubies set in gold were strung across his shoulders. When my eyes found his, he gave a slight bow and introduced himself. 

“Poe Dameron, Duke of Grafton, Miss. I am here to escort you to His Majesty.” 

This Duke was unfamiliar to me and I did not recognize his family name. I struggled to determine whether this man was a friend or foe. I took a few steps toward him and waited to see if he would offer me his arm in the manner of a true escort. His hands remained folded together in front of him. 

Was this respect? Or another slight to remind me that I was nothing? 

Duke Poe gestured toward the door and I stepped through it. I heard him tell Anna to remain in the chamber. 

We were led through yet another set of doors before Duke Poe turned to me before the great oak doors of the Privy Chamber. I remembered running my fingers on the small swirls decorating the wood as a child, as I waited for my father to allow me in to greet him in the morning. My fingers itched to do this again. 

“You are being presented to His Majesty along with the twelve members of the Privy Council. I believe the Duke of Norfolk explained this to you when he retrieved you from Hatfield?” 

I nodded at him as I searched his eyes for any indicator that Hux was a friend of his. He gave nothing away. 

“I will enter before you and then announce you. You may approach the seated members of the council. His Majesty will be –“

I interrupted him.  
“I know where the King’s chair is located!” 

I was starting to become angry by the assumptions of the people at court. As if I had never been here before. An indentured milk maid seeing a palace for the first time. 

Duke Poe stared at me for a few moments and then snapped his fingers at a guard who opened the heavy doors. As we stepped through them I heard Duke Poe mutter “Careful” as we passed the threshold. I couldn’t tell if this was an admonishment toward my behavior or if he had noticed the slight way my legs were shaking as we walked. 

The Privy Chamber was just as I remembered it. All dark wood and paneling, a large carved fire place, and the thirteen chairs arranged around where a large table usually sat. The table had been removed and all of the chairs had been arranged to face the door. 

“Desirey Lancaster, of Hatfield House.” Poe announced and walked quickly past me to take the one empty seat in the line up.

It occurred to me that I had stopped walking after we entered the room. 

My eyes moved toward the center of the chairs to the place where the King’s chair of estate sat. 

There he was. 

King Kylo Ren. 

My occasional childhood companion. 

The man who helped kill my father and shunned me into exile. 

His hair was still dark. Even at a distance I could see the long line of his nose and the spattering of small moles across his face. His broad mouth was fixed in a grim line. His large hands were fisted on the arms of his chair. He was dressed all in black. 

Finding my ability to move again, I held my spine straight as I walked toward him, my eyes never leaving his face. He could kill me for acting rudely, but I refused to look away from the man who helped to betray my family. 

Reaching the red carpet that ran as a thin aisle up to the King’s seat, I fell into the court obeisance reserved for a ruling monarch and finally let my eyes fall to the carpet. 

My heart began to pound in my ears.  
There was silence. 

I counted out the six seconds required to remain in a curtsey and began to rise. 

“Stop! Remain where you are. The King has not given you leave to stand” This was Duke Hux’s voice, seated immediately next to the King. 

Is this how it is now? We are forced to wait until the King allows us to move? Even to my traditional ears it sounded excessive.

I sank back down and waited. 

With my eyes trained on the edge of the carpet in front of me, I hear the sound of a man standing. His footsteps are heavy and approach me down the length of the carpet. Eventually they stop but not in front of me. 

“Come.”

The King has spoken. He could not be but five paces in front of me and yet he beckoned me forward. 

I stood again with a quick glance toward him so I would know where to stop. 

Walking with my eyes down, I move along the length of carpet and again curtsy down to the floor. My eyes traveled to the King’s crest embroidered into the carpet right in front of me. His leather boots touch the edge of it. 

A reminder of who owns the very ground I walk on and who must come when they were called. Like a dog. 

“Look at me.”  
Three more words from his large mouth. 

I slowly raised my eyes to his. 

What I found was not the boy I remembered. Though only nine years older than me, 29 to my 20, he looked far more mature than I remembered him.  
The small dimple in his cheek told me that if he smiled, his grin would still be lopsided. His shoulder length hair flowed neatly around his face and the tilt of his head held his regal bearing even from the angle I was looking from. 

Underneath his doublet I could tell his shoulders were broad and strong, his thighs muscled in his breeches. His feet very large in his boots. 

But his eyes, they were still the beautiful deep brown I remembered from our time together as children. However, they held none of the spark of our youth. And while they did not hold the hatred I had grown accustomed to from Armitage Hux, they were dark and cold. I sensed the cruelty that hid behind his obviously powerful persona. 

This was not the “crowned pig” Anna so frequently joked about to me. 

This was truly the Supreme Leader of England. The King of his dominion. The sole ruler of everything on our island nation. A man who dominated the room. 

I imagined I must look like a sacrificial lamb in front of this lion. I have a brief moment of thought at how I must look to him. What did he see in my large blue eyes? Terror? A challenge? 

He continued to stare before speaking in a low voice.

“Welcome to court. We have much to discuss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let it be known that I would kill for the chance to kneel at Kylo's feet!  
> :D <3


	4. The Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desirey is put in her place and asked a very important question.

There is a shuffling as the members of the council begin to produce parchment and documents. A few of them are given small writing desks by servants who enter the room. A chair is brought in for Cardinal Winterburn who sweeps into the room in his red cardinals robes. His eyes catch mine briefly before bowing to the King. 

King Kylo has returned to his seat and continues to stare at me. 

I have not been invited to rise and I don’t dare attempt it. I’m not sure what I was expecting from the King, but whatever it was, I was not prepared for the intimidating man in my father’s chair. I recognize the new trembling in my legs as fear not nerves.

One of the members of the council starts by reading off a list of items on the agenda. The final item called out is “The Lancaster Proposal”. My heart sinks at the thought of kneeling here through all of these topics. My first council meeting and I am not the one at the head of it. 

Anticipating the long wait until I am the subject of the discussion, I shift the weight from my knees and lean back with my bottom on my heels. This is far more comfortable and I keep my hands folded in my lap. 

As I smooth down the front of my gown, I hear footsteps approaching me. They are fast and black. 

Before I have a chance to meet his eyes, King Kylo slaps me across the face. 

I scream as I am thrown back, landing on my shoulder. The sleeve of my gown rips. I twist my body around to look at the King while cradling my cheek. I can taste blood in my mouth and I find that I must have cut the inside of my cheek on one of my teeth. 

Before I have time to voice my outrage, Kylo is pulling me up by my other arm back to my knees.

“You will kneel until I say you may move. Do not think to test me.” His eyes are dangerous and I feel mine fill with tears. His grip on my arm is almost as painful as the slap. 

The room is silent. I notice Cardinal Winterburn staring, but he does not move nor does he speak. Duke Hux is rubbing his slight mustache in a poorly conceived way to hide his smile. I’m sure he loves what he is seeing. 

The King stalks back to his seat and resumes staring at me. 

I refuse to look up at him again. Tears fall onto my skirts making multiple dark spots in the silk. I have to grip my fingers tightly to keep them from shaking. 

I barely listen as the council moves through the list, talking, arguing, and even laughing at certain points. The King says almost nothing as they speak around him. He stops them occasionally to say ‘yes’ or ‘no’, or give a final opinion. I feel his eyes on me the entire time. 

He speaks at length only once. 

A council member reads “Next is the coverage of the tailor’s debts for the Duchess of Grafton.” He continues with the sums for a variety of cloths undoubtedly used to make exquisite gowns. I think absentmindedly that Duke Poe’s wife must have expensive taste. Why would the Duke have to ask the King to pay them? 

The reader clears his throat before reciting “…and finally fifty pounds for the making….of a special order corset.” 

My eyes flick up toward the speaker. Fifty pounds for a corset? 

I must not be the only one surprised because Cardinal Winterburn interjects. “Fifty pounds? His grace, the Duke must have better control over his wife’s spending habits.” There is a lilt of disgust in his voice. 

The King speaks without taking his eyes off mine, which have turned up to look back at him. I cannot hide my interest in this conversation. 

“We shall cover half of the cost of the Duchess’s debts. Poe will be responsible for the rest. The price of the corset will be covered by the crown since it was commissioned…by me.” 

Duke Poe says nothing as this order is scratched into rule on parchment somewhere to my left. Duke Hux meets my eyes and smiles broadly at me. King Kylo’s face twitches as if he is hiding a smirk. 

It dawns on me that the only reason the King would commission a corset would be if it were a personal matter. He must have an intimate relationship with the Duchess. A very intimate relationship. No wonder Duke Poe was not baited into speaking. This is clearly common knowledge. Duke Poe has no right to refuse the king. 

I hate the King and Hux even more for his sake. 

The council moves on until at last “The Lancaster Proposal” is brought to the table. Every single man in the room shifts in their chair. Even the Cardinal sits up straighter. 

I proceed to stare at each man in turn. I know that the treatment I am about to receive will be undignified, but I will not grant them a window into my feelings. I resolve to stay stoic on my knees. 

The speaker continues reading from his parchment.

“His Majesty is fifteen days away from his thirtieth birthday. This council has approved spending for a national celebration and for the receiving of foreign dignitaries. We have received confirmation from all major houses across Europe who are sending their choice of representatives. Ambassadors, Princes and Princesses of the Blood, and Cardinals will join us at court.” 

This information is not new to me, but I get the feeling it is being repeated for my benefit. 

“After careful consideration of this council and in response to reports from foreign kingdoms, it has been decided to invite the Lady Desirey Lancaster to court for the celebrations. His Majesty is secure upon his throne and wishes to extend his goodwill to the daughter of the previous King Henry whose contributions to our country were plentiful before the end of his reign.”

‘More like before his reign was ended for him’ I think with hostility. Do they truly expect me to endorse this? 

The speaker shuffles some parchment and I hazard a glance at Armitage Hux. He looks far more happy than I would like to see him. 

“The Lady in question will be present at the festivities as the King’s honored guest and will receive a dispensation to use the courtesy title of ‘The Lady of Lancaster’ in the interim.”

Duke Hux’s face falls. He must have been hoping I would be put in a cage for visiting dignitaries to gawk at like an animal in a menagerie.   
For a moment I appreciate the council’s regard for my humanity. 

“Her ladyship will have funds afforded to her for the immediate upkeep of her person for the celebration. She will be provided with the special service of the King’s Knights of Ren for her protection. This will extend until such time…”

The speaker clears his throat and I turn to look at him again. Until such time as what? I am hauled away to the tower? 

“Until such time has passed that the question of her impending marriage to His Majesty, King Kylo Ren of England is finalized and confirmed.”

A chair overturns somewhere in front of me and I hear an indignant voice call out. 

I press my hand into the immediate pain in my stomach before falling forward. My hands catch me as I remain on all fours staring at the King in disbelief. 

The chair and the raised voice belong to Duke Hux who quite obviously was not informed of this piece of the plan. His red hair is out of place and there is an unbecoming flush creeping up his neck. 

The King has not moved nor reprimanded Hux for his blatant disrespect. 

My stomach heaves and I feel as if I am going to vomit right there on the red carpet. I take a deep breath and heave again. 

Hux continues to shout about the degradation of the King’s line by marrying someone as lowly as me and that the nobles will rise up in my favor if given the chance. 

“The Duke of Norfolk would do well to close his mouth before it is closed for him.” The King shouts in a way that makes his voice ping around the room. Hux immediately takes a step away from the King and retreats to his chair which has been replaced by a silent servant. 

The King stands and walks toward me again. I begin to stand too and this time I am not told to kneel. My whole body is shaking in part from the heaving, but mostly due to the rage building up inside me. 

Once the King has approached and I am standing on my own two feet he asks “Your answer to the proposal, Lady Lancaster?” His voice is perfectly calm. One dark eyebrow is raised as if he is asking whether I want pheasant or venison for our midday meal. 

I take a deep breath and look up at him. Now that I am standing I notice how truly massive he is when he stands. He must be one of the tallest men in England, if not the world. 

“It is my honor..”

I begin,

“To tell the Privy Council and his most esteemed Majesty..”

I take a small step forward.

“That I would not consent to marry this usurping crowned pig for all the riches in the world.” I shout this last set of words loud enough so that no one in the chamber may question what I have said. 

When the last word is out of my mouth I turn to run toward the door. I might grant myself a few moments of liberty if I move fast enough, before I am strangled in the hallway. My right foot extends out in front of me and I lift my skirts to aid in my escape. I take the first step before feeling as if something has pulled my gown backward. I throw my hands down in front of me for the second time today to catch my fall. There is more ripping, but this time from the back of my gown. 

The tears are flowing again, this time from anger and pain as I twist around to see the King’s boot planted firmly on the hem of my gown. 

He didn’t even have to reach out to stop me. Not a guard nor one of his knights have moved in response to my attempted fleeing.   
Their faith in his abilities speak through their lack of action. 

I am certain that I will never stand again. The King will kill me, right here on the floor. My blood will seep into the carpet and ruin it. Anna will be drowned in the River Thames. 

I slowly let my eyes rise to the King. 

His boot is still on the back of my dress, but he is loosening the ties at the neck of his doublet. 

“Leave us.” He says in a dangerously calm voice. 

Every person in the room moves as if poked by a brand. None of them speak as they retreat. The Cardinal is the last to leave. He makes the sign of the cross as he moves across the threshold. 

I know I have just signed my death warrant.


	5. An Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desirey is left alone with the King for the first time.

The doors to the Privy Chamber are closed. There is a soft thunk as one of the locking bars is placed across the doors.   
I will not be leaving this room unless the King allows me to. 

It is both a relief and a horror to be left alone with this man. On one hand, there is no longer an audience to view my shame. On the other, I have lost any mercy members of the council might call on the King to dispense. 

He finishes unlacing his doublet and pulls it open. I see the skin of his chest and the dark curling hairs peeking up through the fabric. He has stepped back from my dress, but is still glaring down at me. 

For one awful moment I imagine that he is going to rape me.   
In response I begin to crawl backward, desperate to get away. 

“I had a feeling this would be a difficult conversation. All those years locked away at Hatfield were apparently not sufficient enough to curb your insufferable pride.”  
He has begun to roll up the sleeves of his doublet. He does this slowly and precisely. I vaguely recall the impeccable care he took with his clothing when we were young. 

“You must know that there is very little choice for you concerning our marriage. You will either comply or you will be executed for treason. While both outcomes are favorable, I must tell you that it would be best for the country if you remained alive.” 

He stops speaking and looks over at where I have pushed myself up against the stone wall. 

“I know you are unfathomably loyal to a country of people who have allowed you to fall away into the recesses of history. And while we would have preferred you stay there, there are…..factions…that will agree to further peace once you are installed as Queen.” 

I stop moving.  
Queen? What factions are brave enough to assert that?

“I have always been the Queen. Ever since my father was murdered.” I raise my chin proudly. He cannot erase the royal blood that flows through me.   
His face hardens. 

Before I can crawl away he is on top of me, picking me up and pinning me to the wall. I cry out at his closeness and the stones pushing into my back. 

He smirks a little as my breasts heave upward toward his face, the well boned corset betraying me.

“We will have to commission a corset for you as well.” He crows with a wink before throwing me over his shoulder and stalking back toward his chair of estate.   
I am so horrified that I fight back, attempting to hit his back and kick his stomach as he walks. The King laughs at the futility of my actions. 

From the inner pocket of his doublet he removes a set of small chains with tiny locks attached to them. He wrestles my wrists to the arms of the chair and chains each of them down. He tugs playfully at each one before taking a step back and admiring his work. I try to stand but I cannot lift the heavy chair. He has effectively trapped me.

The way he smiles down at me from his great height tells me he knew he would have to restrain me. Hence the chains in his pocket.   
He gives me a mock bow and says “I hope ‘your majesty’ appreciates being returned to your seat.” He laughs a little at his joke and I wish I had the strength to spit at him. 

“I will do you the honor of explaining further the details of my proposal. I think you will come to see how mutually beneficial this arrangement can be.”  
He begins to walk languidly in front of me. I feel as if I am a rabbit in a den while a wolf prowls just outside the entry. 

“My father allowed you to live in relative obscurity as a cautionary measure. He could not kill you during the coup for fear of the people rising up. History has no qualms about the expedient death of a male heir, but it is a different story with females. His initial plan was to wait until you achieved your majority and marry you himself. However, it was decided that with your marriage and potential production of an heir, I would lose my right to the throne in favor of the direct heirs of your body.” 

My stomach heaves again as I imagine the King’s father impregnating me. 

“Please, stop..” I mutter, but he continues. 

“The council and my father decided it was best to leave you forgotten in the countryside until a better plan could be put in place. A few foreign ambassadors asked for your hand for their kings and princes, but we couldn’t run the risk of you raising a foreign army to stake your claim. Nor could we announce that you had died for fear that another country might try to claim my crown in your honor. So it was decided that I should marry you instead.”

At this he smiles. 

“At first I was reluctant. Most men are when marriages are arranged. But I was allowed to visit dressed as a guard a few years ago and I will give you the honor of a compliment: you were beautiful then, just as you are now.” 

He slowly approaches me and tucks his index finger under my chin, tilting my face up to look at him. His eyes are still dark. He rubs his thumb across my chin and along my cheek. I think absently that this is the first time he has touched me without violence. The skin on his fingers is pleasantly rough. Evidence of his preference for hunting and horseback riding.   
He moves away from me again. 

“I returned to my father and agreed to our plan. We decided to keep it privately within his council so as not to alert you or any foreign power to make a move. The time has come for me to marry and produce an heir. There have been far too many princesses and duchesses paraded through my palaces to tempt me into a foreign marriage. I am not stupid. Their blood lines are just as impressive as yours, but they do not have your history in our country. Nor do they have your more….desirous qualities.”

His eyes travel down my bodice to my waist. To think I was hoping it would be considered attractive just a few hours earlier. 

“And what if I have no desire to marry you? You are a poor excuse for a man and an even poorer excuse for a king.”

King Kylo stops at my words. It’s almost as if he has forgotten that I can speak.   
He approaches the chair and puts his large hands over my bound wrists. The chains dig into my flesh and I let out a whimper. 

“If you refuse there are two options that await you. Hatfield will be burned to the ground with all of your attendants inside it, while you and your dear Anna are taken to the tower to await imprisonment on charges of treason.” 

Nothing could be worse. I feel tears in my eyes at the thought of my sanctuary at Hatfield, the people there who have cared for me, of precious Anna. 

“But you yourself said that you fear a war in my name?” I sputter. 

Kylo leans in even closer. I try to pull my head back but the chair stops me.  
“Your second choice is to become an indentured servant. To His Grace, the Duke of Norfolk, Armitage Hux. He begged for the opportunity to oversee your visits. Right now he is fuming just beyond those doors at the thought that you have been taken from him. He will forgive me for marrying you because I am his king, but perhaps a life with him is more preferable than a life with me?”

He leans in next to my ear and speaks softly into it. 

“Would you rather be my Queen or his plaything? Tied to me in holy matrimony with a crown on your head? Or tied to his bed until your heart gives out from the beatings? His tastes are similar to my own, but I have an incentive to keep you alive…”   
At these last words he bites softly at the bottom lobe of my ear. 

I jump at his touch and begin to sob in earnest. What possible choice do I have? I thought exile was bad enough, but here I am faced with quite possibly the worst two paths imaginable. 

There is only one choice. 

I hang my head until my chin touches my chest. Kylo pulls my chin up again and watches at the tears leak from the corners of my eyes. He smiles, almost sadly down at me. 

“I’m going to give you my handkerchief and release you before I ask the council to return. You will behave like the obedient wife you are destined to be and answer my proposal. If you refuse me, know that I will hand you over immediately to Duke Hux.”  
He hands me his silk handkerchief and tucks my chains back into his pocket. I blot my eyes and glare up at him.

“You said there were two choices. What if choose the Tower instead?”

He smiles at this and I get the distinct sense again that this man is a predator that will swallow me whole. 

“As a member of the Privy Council, the Duke of Norfolk is awarded access to anyone convicted of treason being held within the tower, in order to be able to carry out whatever means are necessary to get you to admit to treason. He will still be able to find you there and investigate you through as many ways possible. Anna too.”

This threat is the worst one of all. 

He gestures to red carpet on the floor and I move to stand upon it, facing him as he sits back in his chair. 

“Recall the council!” He shouts and immediately the bars on the door begin to grind out of place.   
All 12 members of the council and the cardinal spill back into the room.   
I turn slowly toward them as they stand across the room. They do not move to take their seats. I sense that this is part of the pageantry that the King seems to prefer. This is his stage and we are his actors. 

I bob a curtsey to the council before turning back to face the King. 

“Her ladyship wishes to answer the proposal of her King and the Privy Council, once more.” 

There is a shift behind me. The King calls forward the speaker who read the proposal and he quickly goes to the parchment before reading it out loud again.   
There will be no mistaking my answer this time. The King will make sure of it. He rises and approaches me. 

“Will you accept the honor bestowed on you by your king, by agreeing to be his wife?” the speaker says loudly. 

The King adds his own question after this.  
“Do you consent to marry me, Lady Desirey?”

He puts out his large hand to me. I breathe deeply and put my fingers into his. He immediately squeezes them. 

I sink into a deep curtsey before saying “Yes.”

The hand holding mine squeezes harder.   
“Yes, what?” There is a warning in his voice. 

I bend my neck in utter obedience. 

“Yes, Your Majesty.” I amend. 

The men behind me begin to clap. I hear the Knights of Ren stomping their feet in celebration as they wait at their position outside the chamber.   
I look up as the King brings my fingers to his lips for soft kiss. His eyes glitter triumphantly above me.


	6. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desirey struggles with new emotions during a private meal with the King.

The next few moments are a blur of activity. The speaker calls to a few members to draft a marriage contract and to dictate letters to foreign courts.   
I barely move in the chair that has been brought for me. My mind races with how I will tell Anna. 

As the council’s conversation begins to wind down, I look to the King who has barely glanced at me after I was seated.   
Will I be allowed to return to Anna? Will he lock me away until the ceremony? Or has my position changed? I decide to test this.

I slowly rise from my chair. The King turns sharply to look at me as if anticipating another escape attempt.

I curtsy again. “My rooms, your Majesty?”  
I wait for him to complete my sentence. 

The King smiles and stands. Everyone in the room rises with him. They are not allowed to sit once the King has risen. 

“I would be happy to escort you, my dear.” He reaches for my hand and begins to lead me to the door. “We will convene again tomorrow, my friends.” He tosses over his shoulder to dismiss the council. Every man bows as I look back at them, except Armitage Hux. 

The Knights of Ren follow us as the King leads me through the corridors. We are returning to a place that is not where I came from. 

“Where are we going?”

He glances down at me and raises an eyebrow. He remains silent.   
“Where are we going, your Majesty?” I try again. This time he smiles and pulls me closer as we walk. 

“Your new apartments for the time being. They were made ready in anticipation of your arrival.” 

I don’t voice my question about why I wasn’t allowed to stay there last night, but something else comes to mind.   
“-And the Queen’s rooms? What of those?”

The King smiles again. “They are still being prepared. I have been assured that they will be ready in time for our wedding.” 

My stomach rolls at the word “wedding”. How can he be so calm and yet harbor such cruelty inside?

We’ve arrived at another set of doors that are quickly thrown open. I remember this room. It belonged to one of the Baron’s from my youth. I recall that they had a daughter that sometimes took Latin lessons with me.   
To my surprise, Anna is already in the room. She curtsies deeply when she sees us standing in the doorway. 

“Your majesties.” She says to both of us as the doors close. Her face is bright. She looks almost excited. 

“Not yet.” The King snaps at her and Anna’s face falls. This is apparently not what she was expecting. I wish I could tell her immediately about what kind of man the King is. 

“Lady Lancaster will need assistance as she prepares for our nuptials. Members of the castle staff will arrive to help with this effort. Since you have been with her the longest I trust that you will have a care for her person and not attempt to impede the work of my staff. Should anything happen in direct contrast to my wishes, you will be removed.” 

Anna’s eyes are wide at his words, but she nods quickly. He turns back to me, satisfied.   
“I’ll see you at dinner.” He says, leaning down to kiss my fingers before he departs.   
I curtsy quickly, hoping it will get him to leave faster. 

He stops midway to the door and turns back to me. “Remove the headdress.” He barks at Anna.   
Anna scurries quickly to pull the hood and veil from my head. My long hair spills free of the pins attached to the hood. The King stares for a just a moment. “Do not put that or anything like it on her again.”   
The doors open and he leaves. I collapse into Anna’s arms

Anna knows everything now. Each excruciating detail about what happened in the Privy Chamber and the threats from the King. She didn’t say a word as she helped me change from my damaged gown into a dressing robe. We were notified that choices for my dinner attire would be brought shortly. 

“He is terrifying, Anna. I am sick at the thought of what he will do to you if I….if I don’t….” My eyes fill with tears again. 

Anna kneels at my feet and looks up at me. “Please don’t worry for me. I will stay with you for the rest of my life. But you must not do anything that will put yourself in danger. It is not all bad here.” She gestures around the room at the four poster bed, windows, and paintings. 

I feel anger flair up inside me. Not bad? She’s not the one being threatened and slapped. I stand abruptly. 

“If I hadn’t known you almost my whole life I would tell you that you were dropped on your head as an infant. It is not all bad here? Anna, he has laid hands upon me! He intends to breed with me!” I am shouting now and my breath is coming hard.   
My mind flashes back to him standing above me, the cruelty in his eyes, the terror I felt at the thought of being raped. 

Anna is quiet for a moment before speaking. Her voice is soft and placating.   
“Your highness forgets that it is your destiny to be the Queen of England. Neither of us could have wishes for this chance even a few days ago. Yet here you are, preparing to be crowned. You will be his wife, but you will also be his queen. You will be able to care for your people and speak with those that are equivalent to your rank.”

I don’t respond and cross my arms. I refuse to look at her. 

“I wish it was another way, but you yourself told me there is nothing that can be done. Perhaps in time you may be able to bring him peace. Young men are often wild until they are settled and married…”

“What would you know of men, Anna, you are always here with me. I can’t see how you might have gleaned this knowledge when I do not possess it either.” I snap.   
Anna is silent. She looks at me and then looks at the floor. She sniffs softly. 

It dawns on me that while Anna is older than me, she has never spoken to me of a lover. She has never asked permission to visit her family, nor spoken of having children.   
Perhaps she dreams of those things. What if she wishes to fall in love? To have a husband and children? Have I kept her from that? Could she have those things if I please the King? I might be allowed to let her choose a husband. I could gift her with an estate.   
I am immediately sorry for my words and move to hug Anna. She clings to me and we both begin to cry in earnest. 

“I am so sorry, Anna. You must be tired of waiting for a life you have dreamed about. I have kept you from that. I have no right to take away your hope, especially when you have worked so hard to keep mine alive. When I am queen I will give you all that you deserve. You are all that is left to me.”  
She looks at me and smiles through her sobs. “I believe you, my lady. You are a Queen deep down to your bones. You are just and fair. Perhaps you can make the King be just and fair too?”  
Her faith in me is constant.   
As we dry our tears I vow to try. For Anna’s sake.

The hour for dinner is upon us.   
I wait impatiently in my rooms for the King’s knights to collect me. Anna was called to eat with the servants and I resent whomever has taken her from me. Being alone without her cheerful banter is a punishment. 

I check the mirror in my room once again. This one is almost as long as my torso and is much clearer than the one at Hatfield.   
My gown for dinner is the palest pink. My sleeves are made of gossamer silk and run tight to my wrists. The skirt is full and adorned with tiny yellow ribbons. The bodice is tied in the back with matching satin ribbons, the front just as low as the last gown. Apparently a low bodice must be in fashion. I wonder idly if a full bosom is also in style. The slippers still don’t fit me, but the maid who brought them said I would begin fittings for my new wardrobe tomorrow. She mentioned we would also begin the design for my wedding gown. 

The thought of my wedding gown makes me feel ill again, but I cannot deny my excitement for new gowns. I have always loved clothes. It remains one of my most frivolous interests and I have missed the finery of court life.   
Perhaps this is one of the things that are not “all bad” as Anna said earlier. 

A knock sounds at my door and I wait as it is opened for me. We make our way to the King’s personal dining chamber. 

When the doors are opened for me, I am surprised to find that the King is not there.   
I wait in an obeisance in case this is a trick. Minutes pass and still the King does not appear.   
I finally decide to stand and investigate the room. King Kylo obviously has expensive taste. Nothing of my father’s reign has remained. The dining table is made of polished wood with matching chairs sporting red velvet cushions. The tapestries on the walls depict hunting scenes and there are even embroideries made with the King’s likeness included. 

The wall sconces hold costly beeswax candles and are decorated with gold filigree. Various Venetian glasses stand on a small table with what I assume is wine and ale. Heavy velvet curtains adorn the large window in the corner. I realize the stained glass at the top that once held my father’s crest has been replaced. The King’s lion fills one large pane all on its own. I don’t remember our Lancaster roses being half that size.   
I stare out the large window and am pleased to see the spread of the gardens my mother helped create. Their architectural pattern remains neat and well tended. I am hopeful that I might be able to visit them soon. 

I let my shoulders relax. This is still home, just dressed in different clothes. I smile at this comparison. Anna would like that explanation. 

I jump when I feel large hands circle my waist. I attempt to call out as I am pulled back against a hard firm body. 

“Hush.”  
I close my mouth and attempt to turn around to curtsy before the King. 

“Your Majesty.” I say before trying to kneel, but his hands are still around my waist and he holds me still. 

“What a pretty little thing you are.” He looms over me while his hands squeeze. “I am lucky. I can’t imagine what I would have done had you been covered in pustules and fat…”  
I can’t help but frown. He laughs and lets me go. He walks to one of the chairs and pulls it out.

“My lady…” He gestures to the seat. I approach him slowly and allow him to help me into it. 

He retreats to the other side of the table and sits. His foot stomps and the room fills with servants carrying dishes of food. There are so many foods I can barely keep track. This is a far cry from the bread and cheese from the night before. Even further from the bruised fruits at Hatfield.   
The servants begin to dish out the food and we start to eat in silence. The servants remain. 

“Which is your favorite?” The King asks and I’m so startled I almost drop the sweet bun I’m biting into.   
“My favorite?”  
He looks annoyed at my question. “Yes, your favorite dish. On the table. That we are eating.”   
I get the impression he likes making me feel stupid and anxious. 

“I like the lemon fish…and the potatoes.”   
He nods, thinking. 

“You are underfed.”   
I open my mouth to disagree, but he stops me.   
“That was an observation, not a question.”

“For all your grace’s proficiency in the hunting field, I failed to notice all the wild game being brought to me during my time at Hatfield.” I squeeze an innocent smile onto my face. I will not allow him every victory.   
He does not take the bait to argue with me. 

“We will dine together whenever we are able. There will be others who join us occasionally. I host a state dinner once a week where the common people are allowed in and supplied food from our table.”

This surprises me. My father never hosted charity such as that.

“Your Majesty is generous.” I say, lifting more fish to my mouth. 

“Wine.” He calls and a servant immediately moves to fill his goblet. I notice he does not use the Venetian glasses. I make a note to ask to use them next time.   
We continue to eat in silence. 

“I am surprised at your lack of conversation. From my reports I’ve heard often of your great wit and intelligence. Clearly this has been exaggerated.”   
He’s trying to make me angry. I work hard to stay focused on the meal. 

“I struggle to find anything you and I could agree to talk about.” 

He sighs and does not argue. I get the sense that he is waiting for something. 

When I set my utensils aside to signal that I have finished, the King stands abruptly. I try to stand too but he orders me to sit down.   
He stands next to me and stares at my plate.

“Another piece of fish for her ladyship.” He calls to a servant.   
“But I do not want-“ I try.   
He interrupts me. “You are underfed. The people who see you at court will think I have starved you. Finish the fish.” 

I stare down at my plate. I think about refusing again, but I feel his hand on my shoulder and begin to eat the fish. His fingers begin to weave through my hair. The fish is tasteless in my mouth. 

“I have a gift for you.” He says as I swallow the final piece. I look up at him and wait.  
“A gift?” 

He smiles. This smile is different than the others. It is not sinister or cruel. It looks genuine.   
A door opens and a female servant enters the room. She holds a small pillow with a velvet cloth draped over it. Another servant follows with a mirror.   
I find that I am interested to see what he has brought for me. 

“Go look.”He says and I stand. He gives me a soft push at my elbow to let me know that I can approach. 

The female servant bobs a curtsy and reaches up for the cloth. She pulls it back to reveal a necklace of clear dazzling diamonds. There are five of them of significant size all inlaid in silver metalwork. They are beautiful. I assume this piece is new because I don’t recall seeing it among the crown jewels my mother was given to wear.

I reach out a hand to run a finger over the center jewel. “It is beautiful.” I breathe. Forgetting to hide my pleasure. 

“Assist her ladyship.” The King calls and watches at the servant pulls back my hair and closes the clasp. I move to the servant with the mirror and stare at this costly piece. It is hard to pull my eyes away. I forget where I am for a second. I am lost in this finery. Finally my eyes dart up and I look at my face. My cheeks are flushed and my eyes are bright. I look pleased. Like a child receiving a sweet meat at Michaelmas. 

I slowly realize that the King has not only starved me of plentiful food. I am starving for the luxury I was born to. He is trying to win me over. I feel a mixture of shame and regret slide into my stomach. 

I turn back toward him. He has seated himself in my chair and is slowly sipping from his goblet. His eyes do not leave my face.   
“Thank you, your Majesty. It is….beyond lovely.” 

He sits up straighter in the chair and beckons me with a single finger. 

“Let your king have a closer look at his gift.” His smile is soft, but there is something I do not like in his eyes. 

As I begin to approach I hear the door click behind me. The servants have already cleared the table. We are alone again.   
I stop just beyond his reach. He waits. I tilt my head up and roll my shoulders back. I look down at him, waiting for approval. 

He half lifts himself out of the chair and grabs my hand. I am pulled into his lap with a force that causes me to reach out and brace myself against his chest. It like touching a stone wall. 

His arm supports my back as he pulls my legs over the arm of his chair. We are almost as close as we were earlier in the Privy Chamber. Close enough to kiss.   
His eyes hold mine as his hand goes to my neck. It is firm, but soft. He runs his hand down my neck and over the diamonds. His hand falls lower and stops at my breast, heaving up from the bodice. 

“You are beyond lovely, my little kitten.”

He leans forward and softy kisses the top of my breast not covered by his hand. 

I inhale sharply. He lips are soft and big. 

I am transported back in time to a dare from our youth. It was a summer trip to hunt boar in the countryside. Senior members of the court were picnicking and enjoying the day. One of the older boys, Kylo among them, led us to the edge of a creek nearby and away from our parents. They dared us to see who could climb the highest in a tall oak. I tried and failed while the other children laughed and moved on to another tree. As I tried to get down, my hood caught on a branch and I became stuck in place. Kylo had helped me down and pulled the hood from my hair. I remember staring at his lips while he helped me. The memory is a pleasant one. 

His nose is nuzzling softly along my neck and his breath is hot on my collar bone. 

“Kylo.” I breathe and try to pull away. 

His arms are strong and he easily holds me in his lap. 

“Yesss…” He breathes. He is mocking me. 

I say nothing as his hand pulls my neck toward his face. 

“Perhaps you would like to properly thank your King for his gift. Tell me you haven’t forgotten your manners…”  
His mouth is so close to mine. 

“I – please – Kylo – I “ 

“Majesty.” He warns with a tight grab at my breast.

I attempt to pull back but I am being held fast. Maybe if I let him kiss me he’ll let me go?   
I stop moving. 

And then – 

His lips are on mine. They are just as soft as they look. He proceeds to kiss me softly. My mouth begins to move and I am stunned at this response. 

But it feels nice. The King is not hurting me and I find that enjoy the way he smells. Like fresh cut wood and autumn air. 

I open my mouth to take a breath and feel him smile against my lips. I lift up my hand to try to push him away, but it falls limply against his chest. My fingers start to play with the thread on his doublet. 

He pulls away and looks down at me. The lines around his mouth relax and his crooked smile flashes.

“If your brain cannot think of anything for us to converse about, perhaps we can use you sweet mouth for other pursuits.” 

I swallow hard.


	7. A Gown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desirey is presented to the court in a gown to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay!

I am gently tipped out of the King’s lap and we both stand.   
I reach my finger up to trace my lips. They feel no different outwardly, but I swear something has changed. I step back toward the polished table. I look up at him in wonder. What have we done?

The king reaches for his goblet and takes a long drink. His eyes appraise me over the rim.   
He sets down the goblet and smiles at me. 

“Is everything alright, Desirey? You seem abnormally flushed.”  
My breath hitches. 

“I’m well, thank you.” I feel anything but.   
The King’s smile widens. 

“And how do you find the affection shown to you?”  
“It was…I mean it is...”  
I’m stammering like an idiot. My stomach is rolling. What does he expect me to say? 

“Could it be, perhaps, that my future wife is so innocent that she has never been kissed?”  
I do not like where this conversation is going. 

“I have upheld my dignity, if that is what you are implying.” I mutter indignantly. 

The King takes a step forward, close enough to touch me again. He runs his fingers lightly up my arm as if appraising the quality of the fabric of my gown.   
“I am only asking what any husband wants to know. Tell me, darling, are you still intact?”

My face burns and I swat his arm away. “This is entirely inappropriate!”  
The King frowns, but does not step away. 

“There are protocols, you know, sanctioned by the Holy Church that would allow me to have you examined. To prove your virginity.” His eyes sparkle unpleasantly.

“And what if I am not?” I dare. No men, aside from my guards at Hatfield, were ever allowed near me. Even Duke Hux never touched me until his most recent visit. I realize now this has likely been intentional. To keep me pure for the King.   
His expression is immediately dangerous.

He reaches for the arm he was stroking lovingly a moment ago and uses it to drag me toward the wall. Before I can shout he has me pushed up against the stones, his hard body pinning me in place. I panic as I feel him start to drag the back of my skirts up.

“Stop!”

He kisses the side of my neck and keeps pulling my skirts. 

“If you are no longer a virgin, there is no sense in me denying myself for the sake of ceremony.”   
More white hot panic surges into my stomach. 

“Your Majesty, please! I remain intact! I have not been touched!”  
I am sobbing now. I can feel air against the back of my legs. 

The king takes a step away from me. I twist my back against and the wall in order to face him. I’d like to be prepared if he attacks me again.   
I slide down the wall and clutch my knees. 

The King kneels down in front of me and tucks a finger under my chin. His eyes are bright and he begins to smirk.   
“Of course you are, Desirey. If you were not, you would not be here, nor would you be alive.”   
I realize he is enjoying my fear. 

My hands are still shaking when I am returned to my chamber. Anna is waiting for me and sits quietly as I tell her about our dinner. I leave out the kissing. 

“Your highness must be careful.” Anna fiddles with her fingers. “He is the King. Things are different here now and King Kylo is greatly loved. There is no one to deny him. I fear that if you resist too often….” Her brow furrows.   
She doesn’t say what I have already been thinking.   
If I resist, we are both dead or at the mercy of Armitage Hux. Both are equally horrible. 

“He is persistent in his inappropriate behavior.” I huff as I sit and wait for Anna to take off my necklace.   
“He is a brute to be sure.” Anna says, gently pulling the metal from my neck. “But he shows his respect in other ways. Look at these diamonds. They must have cost a true English fortune.”  
“I’m sure the diamonds were a fortune on their own, but his attempt to woo me was exceedingly cheap. Does he think I am some bar wench that can be plied with shiny baubles?”   
Anna cocks an eyebrow at me. “Do not tell me you want to give it back?”   
“Absolutely not! It is mine by right! Everything he has belongs to me.”  
Anna drops her eyes, “My lady, I fear that very shortly everything he wants will belong to him.”

I feel sick again. She is right. Bringing up my birthright only makes it worse. He is marrying me because I will give him the true security he wants. Replace a child queen for a married one and everyone is pleased.

The next morning I am bathed and brought breakfast. There are roasted sausages and honey cake and fruits for me to try. I share them with Anna who is visibly excited at the prospect of full meals. We have both known hunger at Hatfield. 

Later on, my chamber is filled with exuberant female servants carrying ribbons and bolts of cloth. I am introduced to the royal seamstress and the mistress of the robes. Both women are pleasant and refer to me as ‘your highness’. While the rest of the court waits for the announcement, these women are thrilled at the prospect of a queen and the knowledge that they knew before anyone else.

The seamstress measures every inch of me. The assisting women drape a rainbow of different fabrics around me and ask my opinion on ribbons and colors. There are pinks and greens and blues and whites. Large pieces of gold fabric are set out for my approval. I say no to almost nothing. 

My clothing is removed down to my shift for the seamstress to measure me for corsets. I ask about the style and she confirms that a full bosom is quite the style and will only become more popular as I set the trend. Her hands are gentle and precise. She assures me that there will lots of choices for my clothing going forward and that she will work with the court jeweler to plan sets that match. I smile and thank her multiple times. I have missed court fashion. It is a different experience as an adult than when I was a child. 

I am informed that I will be officially presented at court tomorrow. The King will announce our engagement and I will be honored as the King’s intended bride. Messengers are already being dispatched to all corners of the kingdom to alert the common people of the news. While the seamstress assures me that the existing royal wardrobe will be altered to fit me, they will need to time to make up new gowns for me. In the meantime, a wardrobe with gowns in a similar size are brought to my rooms for my inspection and use. 

Anna and I revel at this and take every single gown out to admire. We mix and match pieces and I even convince Anna to take one for herself. Her gray gown is too drab for our surroundings. She chooses a springy yellow that compliments her pale skin and black hair. 

We go to work deciding on a gown for my presentation. I find a stunning creation of dark blue satin with quarter length sleeves of matching satin ribbons. While the Lancaster crest held a red rose, the official colors of my family were blue and gold. I smile when I think about how this might irritate the king, to see me back at court in the colors of his enemy. I immediately ask Anna to find a gold ribbon to place in my hair as well. Anna understands my process and reminds me to try to show some favor to the King. We agree to allow the diamond necklace as my only jewels.

I go to sleep filled with anticipation for the next day. I know that there will be members of the court that remember me as well as new families that have been raised to favor by the King’s family. 

The morning dawns bright, but cool. The timeline for our preparation for the presentation is explained to Anna and I and arrangements are made for attendants to help prepare me. I watch Anna listening closely to each instruction to better understand what will be required of her. We discuss hair and shoes. I ask to be bathed ahead of time so that my hair will smell of roses. 

Anna and I sit down to a game of chess. I will not be allowed to leave my rooms until the announcement is made. We were lucky to have an old board and pieces at Hatfield and Anna and I are evenly matched as we play. 

“King takes Queen.” Anna says triumphantly, winning the game.   
“How appropriate.” I grumble like a poor sport.   
Anna reaches around the board to reset our pieces and raises her eyebrows at me. “Perhaps as the King takes his Queen, she may take some things of her own in the process.” 

My eyes narrow.   
“Meaning..?”

“There is much you have missed. As he takes from you, why not use some of your influence to regain what you have lost?” Anna lightly puts her King back in his square.   
I brush a speck of dust from our table. 

“What influence? I am as much a prisoner as the men wasting away in the dungeons below the castle.”

Anna eyes me carefully. “You are intelligent and beautiful. Remind him of those things. Perhaps it will help you plead your case.”   
I roll the idea around in my mind. Being compliant is hard for me. But perhaps if I can outsmart him rather than making him angry, it will make my life more tolerable.   
I weigh these thoughts in my mind as we begin to prepare for the evening. 

The time it has taken to prepare me was much longer than I anticipated. Different servants came in and of my room four hours. The seamstress insisted on altering the blue gown I had chosen to my exact frame so that I was sewn directly into it.   
My hair was curled into a pile of loose ringlets with the gold ribbon laced in separate sections of my hair. My hair shined along the ribbon and I wished for a moment there had been diamond pins added to accent it. Anna helped me put on the King’s gift. 

When the hour for the announcement arrived I was escorted to the Great Hall. I could hear the sound of it as soon as we left the wing of the castle I was staying it. I could imagine that the King had brought everyone possible to court long before even I knew I was to join him. 

I was met outside the doors once again by the Duke of Grafton.

“Your grace.” I inclined my head.  
“My lady.” He said and bowed stiffly. I wondered if he relished having to be my gatekeeper.   
“The king will speak and then announce you. When you enter the great hall he will be waiting at the dais to welcome you. I’m sure I do not need to remind you that you are expected to kneel. His Majesty will approach you and then escort you to the table for the meal.”

I nod in his direction. This seems easy enough. I find that I am nervous to be displayed in front of the court. I wonder what they will think of me. Will I look the way they expect? Who will be glad to see me and who will not be?

I wait as the room quiets beyond on the door and the King begins to speak. 

He repeats much of what he has already told me about his plans for the future in a far more pleasant way than I was told. The room is silent except for his voice and occasional cheers, Huzzahs!, and laughter. These responses sound genuine. I am annoyed at his apparent popularity. 

“My council has finally convinced me of my need to marry. The choice was difficult what with so many distinguished ladies from across Europe. However, after much discussion of the merits of each candidate, a lady has been chosen. She is the picture of English beauty. We have been assured that she will be an obedient wife and bring forth the heirs to my throne.” I hear the King explain. 

My mouth is dry. How dare he insult me by insinuating that my sole purpose is to provide him with children. I do not know exactly what factions are causing trouble, but it is clear my use extends past my bodily abilities. 

“Enter!”

His voice booms and I hear the sound of many feet shuffling to look toward the door.   
The Duke of Grafton enters before me and steps to the side.

“The King would like me to introduce his betrothed. Her Ladyship, Desirey Lancaster. Daughter of the former King Henry.”

I step forward with my head held high. A whisper runs through the room. I approach the King who is standing at the edge of the dais waiting for me.   
I walk forward, forcing a calm smile onto my face. My eyes latch on to King Kylo’s. They are cold.

There is no sound aside from my gown whispering along the stone floor. I cannot tell if the silence of the court is deferential or disgusted.   
When I reach him, the King does not approach me, nor does he reach for my hand to summon me up the dais.   
He waits.   
I bow my head and kneel.   
“Your Majesty.” I breathe loud enough to be heard, but not enough that I am yelling. I will play the demure wife for now.   
The King waits. 

I do not move a muscle. I will not be slapped again. 

Finally he steps down and takes my hand to raise me up. His eyes are still cold. 

“Your future Queen!” He calls to the court and the cheering begins. I am turned to face the court and I am all at once overwhelmed. There is whistling and shouts of joy. Women of the court dab their eyes with lace handkerchiefs and older gentlemen stomp their canes.   
My hand is still being gripped by the King to the point of pain, but I do not care.   
I smile graciously at the people who knew me, knew my father, knew my place.   
I curtsy slightly to them in turn. My eyes are filling with soft tears. 

Perhaps I will be loved. Perhaps the people are truly grateful for my restoration. 

The King pulls my hand and we make our way up the dais to our seats. My chair matches the King’s except his is larger to accommodate his large frame. I think again about how much different he is than my father.  
The King does not speak to me much during our meal. I am pulled into polite conversation by the Duke of Grafton at my left. Duke Hux is on the other side of the King and speaks in low tones with him. I am annoyed once again by their closeness. 

The meal finishes and the King calls for dancing. The tables are pulled back by servants and casks of wine and ale are brought in their places. Minstrels begin to play on their lutes and pipes and the atmosphere is buoyant. I catch many of the women at court looking at me and speaking with their friends. Some appear awed while others look unimpressed. 

The King asks me to dance and in a rare act of kindness chooses a song and style I am familiar with. 

As we move through the steps, his hand holds my waist possessively.   
“You Majesty must allow me to take lessons. My training in court dances is very out of date.” I venture.   
He looks down at me and nods slightly. His grip on my waist increases. 

We spin past several other couples. I smile at each person who catches my eye. Whether they smile back is unimportant. 

The music ends and the King and I bow to each other. He abruptly leans in close to me and presses his ear to my lips. I try to rear back but his strong arm is holding me in place. He waves at the minstrels for silence.

“We thank you all for your kind wishes on this evening of our engagement. My lovely bride has just informed me that she is overtired and must seek the refuge of her apartments. Please, be merry until the early hours!” He is charming and elegant in his speech. 

The court shouts their praise and continues to make merry. The King hustles me from the room and the great doors to the hall are barely shut when I round on him.

“One dance? I am not ‘overtired’!” I am indignant. Going back to my apartments at this hour feels like a punishment after spending all day there waiting to make it to this very moment.   
The King glares down at me before transferring my fisted hand into that of one of his Knights. 

“Bring her to my chamber. Do not allow her to speak to anyone on the way there.”

“What-“ I start to say before a gloved hand covers my mouth and I am all but dragged to the Kings apartments. I struggle, but the knights are far stronger. It takes two of them to get me there and I am disheartened when not a soul crosses our path.   
Who could save me anyway?

The King’s reception chamber is large and beautifully made. I have a brief moment of clarity where I admire the ceiling length red velvet curtains that cover the windows before I am immediately on guard. 

What could I have done to anger him now?  
A door opens and the King steps into the room followed closely by Duke Hux. The King’s eyes are sparking with rage. 

“What have I-“ I begin. 

“His Majesty has entered the room and yet you are not kneeling?” Duke Hux interrupts me. This has started to annoy me.

I quickly kneel and wait. I cannot help to raise my eyes and watch as the Duke pulls the Kings gold chains from his doublet. King Kylo holds his arms out as Hux begins to unbutton his sleeves. 

“Tell me, Hux, what are your thoughts about our dear Lady Desirey after her presentation?”  
I am stunned. Why would he be asking him? Why is he getting undressed?

“Beautiful, sire, but insolent nonetheless.” The Duke smiles predatorily at me around the King’s shoulder.   
“What?” My voice comes out strangled. I am at a loss. 

“Silence, Desirey!” The King shouts. Hux is removing the King’s rings and placing them carefully on a nearby table. 

“Perhaps your majesty must remind her again of her place? After all, it is treasonous to fly the colors of a conquered King.” Hux’s eyes sparkle.   
My heart drops.   
He noticed. I immediately regret my foolishness. Anna said I was intelligent, but kneeling here proves that I am anything but. 

“You’re quite right.” Kylo begins to roll his sleeves. 

I am desperate. “Please, your Grace. It was not meant to offend.” I lie.   
“I was enticed by the beauty of it.” If I could take it off right now I would. Hux’s wandering eyes be damned.

The King approaches me and stares down. I hope he sees sincerity instead of fear in my eyes.   
He runs his thumb down my cheek, his eyes looking deeply into mine. 

“Your beauty is enticing, Desirey. Even in this moment when I am tempted to put you over my knee and spank you for your insolence.”   
I repress a shudder. Spanking? 

“Please, your Majesty. I apologize if my choice was made in error, but there is no need for your anger.”   
My voice has taken on a whining quality. His thumb has dipped lower to my gown’s neckline, tugging it closer to him. 

“Oh Desireyyy…” He tsks like I am a naughty child. “You have no idea what kind of apologies I expect to receive from you.”

I pull away at the same time that he pulls at my neckline and rips it. The beautiful blue falls away to reveal my corsets underneath. I begin to scramble backward but he keeps pulling.   
“Stop, please!” 

I turn around to crawl away, but he grabs me by the waist and drags me to a small chaise lounge. He hands fly to my sleeves as he continues to rip.   
His eyes are dangerously dark, his pupils blown back so far that I can no longer see that warm brown. 

“We will see that which has cost us so much.” He smirks down at me as the blue skirts are shredded by his hands. 

I begin to claw at his face, but Duke Hux is suddenly behind me holding my arms above my head. He is helping the king. 

Amidst my struggling and shouting the king has removed every shred of my blue gown and is working at the laces of corset. Some of them appear at the front but they are tied fully in the back. 

“Your Majesty, please! I’m sorry! We cannot –“

I am cut off by him stuffing a length of the blue satin into my mouth. I begin to cry. I refuse to look up at Hux and see his triumph. I will be raped on this chaise lounge while he watches. 

The king pulls a small dagger from the leg of his breeches and begins to cut away at the front of the corset. I feel a sickening pop as the boning falls away, my breasts heaving up and away from their bindings. I start to sob and keen. 

“Come now, Desirey. I want only to see what I have paid very dearly for.”   
Paid for? I struggle harder. 

The king pulls back on one side of the destroyed corset and reveals my breast in full. Through my tears I watch as he gazes at is hungrily and reaches out to slowly stroke my pink nipple. I recoil further into the couch. 

Duke Hux grunts and pulls my arms back so that I have no choice but to arch my back. My other breast is in danger of being exposed. I whimper again and the King meets my eyes. 

He is unrecognizable. I cannot believe I am at the mercy of a man who has no soul. 

Suddenly his eyes dart above me. The pressure of his legs on mine is gone along with his hand on my breast as he reaches up and punches the Duke in the jaw.   
He immediately shouts and stumbles backward. By the sickening crunch I know the Duke is certainly injured. 

I hurry to pull my corset together, lifting the ripped blue fabric to cover myself.   
The King is in a rage. 

“How dare you look at what belongs to me? She is mine. Do not forget your place!” He has the Duke by the collar of his shirt before he throws him backward toward the door. 

The duke quickly bows and leaves the room, holding his jaw. By the looks of it, his face will be sorely bruised in the morning. 

I am still crying when the King turns back to me. I can still see his anger pulsating through him, but his eyes are clearer.   
He leans in close to me on the lounge and nuzzles my nose with his large one. 

“You are mine, Desirey. They may covet you all they like, but you belong only to me.”


	8. The Cloak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desirey requires a cloak.

The king leaves the room. I stay huddled on the couch for a time trying to calm down.   
This is my fault. Anna for all her good advice and education has never been able to stifle my pride. My father always joked that I was unnaturally obstinate and that it was pity I had not been born a boy. 

I rub my eyes with the back of my hand. Still clutching the torn garments around me, I stare around the room. The reception chamber is the first room in the set that belongs to the king. Somewhere beyond the door the king left through would be his private rooms for relaxing and sleeping. Again, while I spent time in here as a child, the room has been almost completely redone to fit the needs of the King. 

The walls are lined with black velvet. There are red accents everywhere and even more of his family crest. Comfortable looking chairs and couches line the walls where courtiers and petitioners wait to be allowed to speak to the King when he allows it. There are small desks with paper and quills and the sconces on the walls hold finely made wax candles. A shelf in the corner has boxes labeled with script denoting their contents of playing cards, chess, and even blindfolds for blind man’s bluff.   
For a man so cold to me, he is certainly concerned for the entertainment of his court. 

My tears have dried and I continue to wait. I can only assume the King will send someone to escort me, but it is taking an absurd amount of time. He cannot expect me to walk back there almost completely undressed. 

Gathering my strength, I walk purposely toward the door leading to the King’s rooms. I step through the door expecting a guard, but finding no one. This room is truly the King’s inner sanctum. Various animal heads and horns cover the walls. There are large shelves containing leather bound books and glass orbs. The largest writing desk I have ever seen takes up almost one whole wall. It is made of red wood and is littered with papers and pots of ink. A statue of a large gold lion rearing up on its back legs takes up a corner of the desk. While I can only see it from a distance I can tell it is a beautiful work of craftsmanship. Just as I step forward to take a closer look, I hear a shout from the King’s bedroom. It is clearly Kylo’s voice.

I move toward the next door and knock purposefully.   
“Y-Your Majesty?” I call through the door. 

“Enter.” He calls back and I pull the gilt handle in order to enter the room. 

The King is standing in the middle of the bedchamber and while he turns to look at me, I catch a glimpse of the end of a red cloak whisking around a door hidden in the wall before it closes.   
Probably Hux leaving after begging the King’s forgiveness. 

Kylo looks at me intently for a moment and I shift a little, hoping that he cannot see any more of my exposed skin.   
“I cannot go back to my rooms like this.” I state bluntly. 

Kylo blinks again.  
“Of course.” He voice was calm, but he seemed out of sorts. The animosity in his eyes from earlier is gone. 

He goes to a chest of drawers in the corner of the room and pulls out a black cloak lined with mink fur. He approaches me with it and waits. 

“You’ll need to drop the clothes if you’re going to take this from me. Unless you’d like me to put it on for you?” He arches an eyebrow. 

I open my mouth to speak, but I cannot think of an appropriate retort. I do not want to provoke him again. Deciding on the less of two evils, I turn my back to him and wait for him to approach me with the cloak.   
I feel him step up behind me and then the soft mink is sliding slowly over my shoulders. The King pulls the front folds together to close around my front. Assured that I am completely covered, I drop the torn gown and grip the slit of the cloak closed. I turn to face the King.   
“Thank you, your grace.” 

He looks down at me with eyes that are searching my face. I sense that he is waiting for me to say more.  
“I hope-“ I take a deep breath. Anna has told me to try and I will. “I hope that your majesty will forgive me for my transgression.” I bow my head.   
I hear him sigh.   
“Go back to your room, Desirey.”

I feel..oddly disappointed. Did I expect him to apologize? I must be truly naïve.   
He turns away from me and I back toward the door with a curtsey. 

I am escorted back to my room by one of the King’s knights.   
Anna is waiting for me. Her bright greeting is cut off immediately when she pulls back the cloak and sees the lack of clothing underneath.   
“My lady!” 

I pull the King’s cloak back around me and start to explain. Anna listens with rapt attention as she prepares me for bed. 

“And how was he when you left him?” She is running a brush through my hair and I feel my shoulders start to relax.   
“Well, I apologized. It won’t surprise you to know that he did not apologize back. There was someone in the room with him before I came in. It was almost like he forgot I was there. But he did not attempt to detain me.” 

Anna’s forehead creases behind me.   
“Your highness must try to make amends. Perhaps tomorrow you might try to approach him privately?”  
I turn sharply toward her. 

“He has repeatedly proved he cannot be trusted alone with me, or with Duke Hux, or even with the council!” My heart is pounding again.   
Anna bows her head. “Your highness must try harder. I fear this…escalation.”

My hands grip together tightly in my lap.   
I do not tell her that I am terrified too. 

My mind is far away the next day when the mistress of the wardrobe clears her throat. She is standing between two maids with gowns selected for me for the day.   
“I will pull another set at once if you wish it, your highness.”

I glance down at the choices that have been brought. I choose a gown of deep green taffeta opening on to a black petticoat embroidered with black detailing. It is cooler today and this gown has thick sleeves that reach all the way to my wrists. I am hoping to be let out into the gardens.   
Anna has seen to it that my hair has been lifted into a tall arrangement of curls and obsidian pins. I was not offered jewels today, but I wore the necklace from the king in any case. 

When the maidservants leave and I am dressed, I turn to Anna.   
“I want to go to gardens today.”  
She looks at me and blinks. “Are you allowed?”  
“I’m not sure…” I pause. 

Anna moves quietly as she puts away combs and pins in my dressing table.   
“Perhaps it would not hurt to ask? None of the other servants have spoken about your movements, but now that the court knows you’re here I imagine it would look odd if you stayed in your room all day.”  
I nod at this, gathering up my courage. 

I go to the door to my chamber and knock. There is a slight shuffle and the guard at the door opens it.   
“Milady?” He is a palace guard, not a Knight of Ren. I hope that this is a good sign.   
I stand up straighter. 

“I would like to walk in the garden this morning. Will you accompany me or will another be called in your place?” Normally Anna would speak with other servants for me, but I feel that right now it is important to use my position to my advantage.   
The guard looks mildly panicked. “I am under orders not to allow you to leave your room, your ladyship.” He bows awkwardly at this.   
My heart sinks. 

“Please send a page to his Majesty with my inquiry. I’m sure he will see no problem with this.” I say this more confidently than I feel. 

The guard nods and barks down the corridor for a servant. The door is closed and I wait. Anna continues to put away the small items around my room and prattles about what is going on downstairs in the castle. I enjoy hearing about the other servants she has met and their names and positions. 

I jump a little when the guard knocks on the door. Anna opens it for me and returns with a letter bearing the King’s wax seal. It is still warm when I snap it to open the letter. 

::I have granted your request to visit the castle gardens. Be advised that this is a privilege. Do not make me regret this decision.   
Bear in mind that there are many eyes upon you, even in my absence. I will expect you to arrive promptly for tea this afternoon.   
Wear a cloak. There is a chill.   
Kylo Rex::

My finger traces the ‘Rex’ following his name. My father never thought it necessary to sign his name with the Latin word for ‘King’ following his signature. I wonder if he had, perhaps the court would not have forgotten who was as they tore him from his throne. I shudder a little at this and fold the letter up again. 

“I may go!” I thrust the letter to Anna who reads it quickly.   
“Marvelous! Shall I call for the wardrobe for something suitable? Perhaps they have something in green to match.”  
Before she moves to the door to summon a page, my eye catches on the King’s cloak hanging over one of my chairs. Perhaps there is no need to wait on a maidservant. 

“Bring me the King’s cloak, Anna, I cannot wait a minute more!”   
Anna smiles at me and pull the cloak from where it hangs. She drapes it softly around me and I take a moment to appreciate the way the mink slithers softly over my arms. When I take a step forward I am reminded that the cloak is at least three men’s hand breadths too long and drags behind me like a train. No doubt it fits the King perfectly. Another reminder that I am dwarfed by his height and size. 

As we prepare to leave Anna is called away to assist with my wardrobe preparations. She has insisted upon helping with the adjustments to the royal wardrobe and my wedding gown. Anna assures me the plans for the gown are lovely, but I am still irked that I have not been allowed to choose a style for myself. This choice has been reserved for the King. I half expect him to let me arrive to the ceremony naked, if not for the uprising it would cause within the church. 

I am a little put out that Anna will not join me outside, but that is quickly squashed when the guard leads me through the gates to the garden.   
They are just as I remember them, lush and fragrant. Even though summer is coming to an end there are still many blossoms for me to see and enjoy. The guard from my door follows at a distance as I flit from plant to plant. There are many new plots holding various colors of the same flowers and even a section for what appears to be raspberry bushes. 

“Are these safe to eat?”  
The guard looks startled to have been spoken to.   
“I believe so, my lady. I see the kitchen maids picking them every so often.” 

I grin and pluck a berry. The juice is sweet in my mouth and confirms that they are in fact raspberries. I eat a few more and tell the guard to enjoy a few as well. He waits until I have moved on to another plot of flowers before approaching and trying a few for himself. I explore every alcove and lawn available to see in the garden and am only pulled away when a page approaches my guard with a reminder that it is time for me to join the King for tea. 

“Yes, yes let’s go. It is has been such a pleasant afternoon.” On a whim I have gathered a small bunch of daffodils to have placed in my room. I know Anna will enjoy seeing them as well.   
The guard leads me to the King’s dining chamber and I am quickly allowed to enter.

I sweep into a curtsey and wait for the King. He is seated at the table with several stacks of letters around him. 

“Rise, Desirey.” He says without looking up. 

He is engrossed in a letter and does not move as I take my seat across from him. Small porcelain dishes have been set out for us with several steaming teapots. There are different patterns on each pot and I get the distinct impression that they might belong to multiple sets. 

“Will there be others joining us?” I gesture at the line of pots. There are only chairs for the King and I which only adds to my confusion.   
The King glances up and then back to his letter. 

“The kitchens do not know your preference yet and made as many varieties as they could. I prefer the black tea in the gold pot.” 

Of course he would like the black tea. 

I stand and gently lift the top to each pot before selecting a lavender tea for myself. I check again for servants who might pour for us but seeing none and having poured for myself many times at Hatfield, I do so neatly into a china cup painted with red roses. They remind me of my family crest and I’m glad this set has been selected for me. 

As I turn to retake my seat, the King sighs behind me.   
“Might it have occurred to you that your King might like some tea as well?” His voice is clipped.   
I turn toward him and see that he is frowning. 

I quickly set down my cup and saucer and move toward the gold pot. 

“I-I’m sorry. I thought you would have someone to serve us.” I say simply and try to avoid his eyes. His doublet is black today, shot with gold thread and it is accenting the honey colored tones in his irises.   
I pour the tea into his cup and set the pot down neatly before moving back to my chair. 

“This is a time I reserve for solitary letter reading. Kings are not often afforded privacy.” He glances at me and to my place setting. “Eat some toast or a sweetmeat.”   
This is a command and I do not argue this time. 

I select a lemon tart and two slices of sweet bread covered in jam. 

King Kylo returns to his letters and sips idly at his tea. I am surprised that the silence between us does not seem charged with hostility. Something like calm acceptance hangs here today. 

“Who is writing to you?” I venture taking a bite of my bread.   
He looks at me and cocks an eyebrow.   
“Everyone writes to me, Desirey. My position is an important one, if you recall.” There is a touch of rudeness in this that I choose to ignore.   
“Perhaps I will be allowed to receive letters soon?”   
The King looks up again sharply.   
“Are you expecting letters from someone?” His voice is harsh. 

I let my eyes drop demurely. “No, Your Majesty.” I do not mention that I hope to hear from old acquaintances from my childhood.   
He continues to read. I’ve finished my food and rise to get another lemon tart. 

“Tea.” He lifts his cup toward me without taking his eyes of the letters. 

I am annoyed at his rudeness, but I move to fill his cup. I try to fill it without spilling, but the way he is holding it up to me makes this difficult. I put my hand over his to hold the cup steady and complete an easy pour. When I let go I realize he is looking at me again and I hurry to put the pot back. 

“Thank you.” He eyes me over the cup as he sips.   
I incline my head politely and return to my seat. 

“I see you are wearing my cloak today. Since it does not fit I will assume that it’s been dragged through all manner of dirt.” 

I’d forgotten I was still wearing it. I rise and begin to pull at the gold clasp to release it when my mouth barks a retort. 

“If your Majesty was not so large, perhaps it would fit me better.” My hands still and I feel a strong sense of dread. I have been rude again.   
The King stands and approaches me.

“If you were not so small and thin then I would not have to spend a fortune on seamstresses to completely redesign the royal wardrobe.” He smirks a little. 

He reaches down and takes a bite of the tart left on my plate. He lifts his leg and sits on the edge of the table like he might if he visited a London tavern. 

“Come here, Desirey.”

Another command. My hands begin to shake and I stop trying to undo the clasp of the cloak.   
I step forward into his reach knowing that he will only grab me if I am not close enough. 

“Good girl.” He purrs and slides his hands through the folds of the cloak to find my waist. He squeezes and I look down to see that his thumbs are almost touching as his hands wrap around me. His hands are so annoyingly large. 

We stare at each other for a long moment. I am given another full look at his eyes and allow myself a moment of appreciation for their beauty. The King is not an ugly man. I find that the more often I am with him, the more I am pleased by what I see when he is not filling me with terror and rage. 

“Touch me.” He says this simply, but the command is still there. 

I bite my lip. Today has been a good day. I do not want to risk spending tomorrow in a dungeon. 

I raise my hand and let it wrap around his forearm. His doublet fits tight to his arms and I am able to feel the firm muscle underneath. I let my hand rise until it reaches his upper arm. This area is even more muscled and I feel the sinews of his arm flex as he increases his grip on my waist.   
He pulls me forward quickly so that I am standing in between his spread legs. I catch myself by bracing both hands on his chest. His hold on my waist is starting to be painful. 

When our eyes meet again he nods at me and I run both of my hands down his doublet. My fingers play with the gold thread. I try not to look at him.   
“I see that your listening has improved exponentially today, Desirey.” The King bends slightly and nuzzles his nose against my neck. I make an effort not to pull away.

My hands drop lower to his ribs. I can feel his torso moving as he breathes. I do not say anything. 

“Tell me, do you love your King? Has he not given you an honor above every other woman in the kingdom? If not the world?” His thumbs have started to push into my hip bones while his hands drop in time with mine.   
I know that I am not allowed to say ‘no’. 

“Machiavelli asks us whether it is better for a sovereign to be feared or to be loved…” I say softly, remembering my tutoring.   
The King laughs at this and brushes his lips against my forehead. 

“You are a smart little thing, aren’t you?” 

“My tutors taught me well, your grace.” I demure, hoping he moves his lips away from my face.   
He pulls away and cups my cheek with one of his hands. 

“And what is it you feel for me, Desirey? I am going to be your husband. It is your duty to love me.”   
I swallow. His hand is gentle, but firm. He is waiting for an answer.

“Machiavelli says it is safer for a sovereign to be feared, your grace.” I blink up at him.   
He smiles at this. 

“So we agree that a wife of a king should both love him and fear him?” His thumb is tracing the arch of my eyebrow. 

My stomach rolls. The word ‘wife’ still does not sound right to my ears. Can he really expect me to love him after what he has done to me and my family?  
I decide it is safer to nod than to say anything. 

“You are inexperienced, but I will gladly teach you.”  
This has annoyed me. 

“I know how to be a queen!” I exclaim.   
King Kylo laughs and slides his arms around my back, pulling me closer. 

I struggle against him, but he tucks my head under his chin and holds me still.   
“You may have been brought up to be a queen, but your knowledge of what it means to be a woman and a wife are severely lacking.”  
“I should think they are one in the same.” I am indignant again. Why does he insist on purposely antagonizing me? 

“An obedient wife would know not to contradict her husband and especially her king.” His hands have pushed the clasp of the cloak apart and it has pooled around my feet. His hands are immediately back at my waist. 

“You are only one of those things.” I counter and am rewarded with a soft swat to my backside. I jump at this personal touch.

“Do not test me, Desirey. You please me when you are reasonable, but you are delicious when you fight me. I’m not sure I have the strength to contain myself until our wedding if you continue to behave this way.”   
I feel my spine stiffen and I know he feels it too because he laughs and pushes me away gently. 

“We will send the Cardinal to instruct you further in these matters.” He smiles down at me before pushing himself up and off the table. I grimace at him, but hold my tongue.   
He picks up his cloak from the floor and holds it open to me. 

“Enjoy the gardens as often as you like. It will continue to get colder and you are forbidden to catch any chill or illness before our wedding. You may wear this when you go out.”   
I reach out to take it, but the King pulls it back. 

“Allow me.”

Resignedly, I turn around and allow him to place it over my shoulders. He pulls a stray curl of mine from the collar and brushes the back of my neck with his fingers. 

“My clothes look lovely on you.”


	9. Thank You, Your Majesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desirey meets representatives of a foreign court and is alone with the King.

My guard meets me outside the dining chamber and begins to lead me back to my room. As we walk I consider our exchange. 

It was not pleasant, but nor was it…unsatisfactory. Anna might be on to something when it comes to compliance. My mind circles around his comment about being reasonable. I still think his definition of this is warped, but at least I was allowed to stay dressed this time. 

We reach my room and the guard resumes his stance. I wonder idly about when he allowed to sleep and eat if he is constantly at my door.   
Anna has not returned from the wardrobe and I busy myself by finding a wardrobe brush and brushing out the mink on the King’s cloak. 

‘My clothes look lovely on you’

I shiver a little as I remember the King’s words and cannot help from stepping away from the fur. 

I am struggling to understand how to accept his advances. When I was young I assumed I would be married to a dashing prince from another kingdom. After my father’s deposition, I had resigned myself to never being married, let alone receiving any attention from a man. Anna took it upon herself to explain my monthly courses when they arrived and how a child might be conceived. She was curt with me about protecting my virtue. It was inevitable that I would hear servants gossip while at Hatfield and I learned more about what went on between a husband and wife. 

Combining that knowledge with my experience with the King, I am still at a loss. Many of the women I had overheard over the years seemed to think their time with their husbands was enjoyable, even sought after. Still others were impatient with the process and even more impatient with the pregnancies that followed.   
The behavior of the King seems extremely inappropriate to me, but I cannot tell if this is a revulsion due to my feelings from our history, or if it is truly my ignorance. He said he would send Cardinal Winterburn to speak to me and I can think of nothing more uncomfortable. I hope that I will be able to speak to Anna before he arrives so that I have some background in what to expect. Not for the first time I wish my mother was still alive to guide me. 

The hour for dinner draws nearer and Anna returns with maidservants to dress me. Gowns are again brought and I detect a sheen of sweat on the foreheads of the maids that carry my wardrobe pieces. They must be undertaking quite a walk from the royal wardrobes to bring these to me. I try to smile sympathetically at them. The Queen’s Apartments must be ready soon. 

I am being laced into a gown of pink silk embroidered all over with ivory pearls when there is a knock at the door. This is the most extravagant gown I have worn since arriving at court and it shows in the weight of the gown. The sleeves graze the edge of my shoulders and droop becomingly around my upper arm. Anna has pulled my hair down from the pins and lets it fall down my back. Even curled it reaches to the middle of my waist. She makes a point of telling the mistress of the wardrobe not to bring a headdress. 

The door is opened by one of the maids and a liveried page steps into the room. He holds a crystal vase filled with daffodils and a red velvet box.   
“From the King.” He says as he bows and sets them on a table. He pulls a square of parchment from his pocket and sets it on the lid of the box. As he backs out of the room, the volume of my attendants increases like a flock of delicate hens. 

“Ladies!” My voice warns, but it is not as harsh as it should have been. I will not have them tittering about me as if this is a love story in a novel. They hush in compliance and shift around me to give me space to approach the table.   
I look carefully at the daffodils first. One of the stems is broken and I am reminded that I left the flowers I picked on the table during tea. They must be the same ones. The crystal vase is impeccably clear, a sign of the extreme cost. I purse my lips and open the parchment note. 

‘You left these in the dining chamber. I assume they were not for me.   
Wear these tonight and do not forget to thank me. KR’

I frown. Will Kylo direct all of my actions and speech as if I am a traveling troupe’s marionette? 

I drop the letter and reach for the velvet box. Against a cushion of red silk are a pair of diamond earrings. The top piece is a simple circular diamond in a setting of white gold. Two smaller marquis cut diamonds hang on small circlets of gold before connecting to a teardrop diamond the size of my thumbnail. They are a perfectly matched set. I blink slowly, caught off guard by their loveliness. There is a collective sign from the ladies behind me and I turn abruptly to find them craning their necks for a better look at my gift from the King. 

I try to look stern, but I cannot help but giggle when I see their faces. They are so blatantly excited by the trappings of royalty and it shows. I allow myself a few more laughs at their expense as they try to hide their smiles after a quick reprimand from the mistress of the wardrobe. She continues to sew my delicate sleeve to my bodice. Showing my shoulders and arms might cause a scandal, but the Great Hall will be warm with all the bodies pressed in around us. Combining the heat with the weight of pearls on my gown, I would swelter through every course brought to the table.

Anna helps me place the earrings in the holes of my ears. The sensation is a little strange after going so long with jewels in them. I turn to look in the mirror and I am very pleased with my reflection. Anna approaches with the diamond necklace from the King, but I wave her away. This is enough for tonight. Anna stays to help the other ladies rearrange the room. She has already placed a nightdress on my bed in the event that I arrive back before her. I am grateful for her thoroughness.

A guard escorts me to the Great Hall and I realize again that I am the last to arrive. He asks me to wait. I hear a myriad of footsteps from down the hall and am surprised to find that the King is joining me for the entrance. His knights part around him and he steps up to me. I curtsy low and he brings me up by my hand. His doublet and hose are black, but his chain of estate is gold set with large pearls. He has matched me. He pulls my hand to his mouth for a courtly kiss, but his eyes never leave mine. 

“You are a vision.” His eyes travel unabashedly to my bare shoulders. I wonder for a moment if this was a wise decision.   
“Thank you, Your Majesty. And thank you for your gift-“   
He stops me with a soft pinch to my wrist.

“Save your thanks for after dinner, sweet Desirey.” His eyes sparkle at me as he bring my hand to his mouth for another kiss.

There is a pit in my stomach again. I have a feeling he is going to expect something besides my words.   
The doors open and the court announcer calls out to the waiting court. 

“Make way for his Majesty, King Kylo and the honorable Lady Desirey!”

The crowd parts down the middle and they all kneel with their heads bowed. The King pulls me forward and we walk to our seats at a leisurely pace. I am still ‘Lady’ Desirey to the court, but soon I will have the title I deserve. If I was not so concerned with staying alive I would insist that the King reinstate me to ‘Princess’ when we are in public. 

We reach our table and the King helps to place me in my chair. He calls for the court to rise before taking his seat. The court fills in around us at the dining tables and once again I am seated next to the Duke of Grafton. He bows slightly to me before taking his seat. His face is grim and I am starting to believe this man never smiles. I crane my neck for a glimpse at who his wife might be, but there are so many women strewn about the hall that it could be any one of them. 

To my surprise Duke Hux does not take the seat next to the King. Instead, Cardinal Winterburn is given the place of honor. The King immediately engages him in conversation concerning some affairs of state, but I have a hard time connecting names to events. I try my best not to look glum, but the Duke of Grafton is hardly a man of wit and conversation. I pick through the roast duck on my plate and look more closely at the table setting. The King and I eat on plates of pure gold, etched with swirling filigree designs. Our utensils match, but our knives are set with mother of pearl inlays. Each household must provide its own plate for use in the Great Hall and I do wonder whether this is confusing for the servants. Looking about the room it is easy to see how the court continually tries to outdo one another with their elaborate settings. As if fashion and manor houses wasn’t enough. 

My eyes alight on Duke Hux further down the head table. There are many people seated here along with us, but I know almost none of them. I recognize some family crests here and there, but I am truly isolated in my acquaintances. It does not seem fair that Hux is among those I do know.   
The Duke is speaking with a well dressed man with more than a little gray in his pointed beard. I notice he bears no family crest, but he is dressed completely in sky blue silk. His hat is accented with a large peacock feather. Feathers of this nature are not common as I look around the hall, but I approve of this fashionable addition to the somewhat dull head wear of the men at court. I have not seen the King wearing a cap yet and perhaps this is the reason the court has not adopted the look.   
The man and the Duke are fully engrossed in their conversation, but the Duke is outdoing the man in his consumption of ale. I have a feeling this will not bode well for whomever must see the Duke later. I expect that he is an incorrigible drunk.

A trumpet sounds to signal the dessert course, but before it is served, the King stands and addresses the court. 

“It pleases me to be surrounded by such good company on any given day in England, but today more than any other I am grateful to you for the hospitality you have shown to our visiting guests. My brother monarchs across Europe have trusted us with the representatives of their countries. We are honored to receive them and entertain them while they are with us before my birthday and marriage. Please, raise a toast to our guests!”   
Goblets lift around the room and I notice the forms and faces of those who must be visiting. They smile politely and nod to those around them during the toast. 

The King continues to speak.   
“Today we have also received representatives for the King of France. Our brother, the King, sends us the Count of Artois. Please, welcome him.”   
The man sitting with Duke Hux stands and doffs his feathered cap at the King and I. His eyes are bright and they meet mine with a small smile. The court’s cheers are more limited for this man. While King Kylo has referred to the King of France as his ‘brother’, relationships between France and England have always been strained. When one takes into the account the amount of conflicts and wars between our nation and theirs, it is not surprising that the nobility does not hold France in high esteem. 

The Count raises his goblet to the King and drinks deeply with the rest of the court. I politely raise my wine glass and drink. I vaguely recognize the Count’s title, but I am not familiar with his face. 

Dessert is served to us in the form of apple fritters with cinnamon and cold cream. The King is served first and my plate is filled after his.   
I take a bit of the delicious fritter and feel a bit of the cream dribble down my chin. 

Lovely. 

I quickly pull my napkin from my lap and dab at my chin before the cream can spatter on my gown. I’ve almost cleaned myself up when the King speaks to me. 

“Desirey.” He says this urgently. 

I turn my face to him quickly, allowing my tongue to lick the last of the cream from my bottom lip. 

I try to meet his gaze, but his eyes are focused on my now clean lips.   
“Yes, Your Majesty?” 

He smirks at me reaches under the table to put his hand on my thigh.  
“I thought you might spill on your dress.”

I shift in my seat and hope no one notices how close his arm is to me.   
“I will take care, your grace. It is a beautiful gown.” I rearrange my napkin in my lap again. 

“There are more where that came from. I confess I would like to see you in more red.” He slides his hand higher up my leg. I instinctively squeeze my thighs together.   
Does he really think this is acceptable at the dining table? With the whole court watching? 

‘Perhaps tomorrow, your majesty.” I purposely lean forward for another bite of dessert.   
His hand squeezes my thigh and leans in closer to me. 

“Perhaps if you spill again we could put you into something red now. I confess I am no lady of the wardrobe, but I have a clear understanding of how to unlace a woman…” His voice trails off and I almost drop my fork. 

He chuckles and I know he is making fun of my innocence again. 

“Your Majesty is most ungallant when you speak of your…private matters.” I feign sadness, as if I am hurt by his mention of other women.   
He pulls his hand away from me and uses it to rub his chin as if he is thinking. 

“Is my little bride jealous?” His voice is playful. 

I cannot help myself. “Hardly!” I burst indignantly.   
His brows pull together and his lips purse. 

“Your ladyship should be grateful for a husband who knows how to bring pleasure to the marriage bed. There are many who would simply take what is theirs by law with no thought to the joy…or pain..they might cause.” He voice is more hollow now. I know that I have irritated him by not playing along with his game. 

“Finish your tart. We must greet the Count of Artois privately when you are finished.” He turns back to the table and drinks heavily from his goblet.   
I try not to frown at my plate as I finish the dessert. I know better than to leave anything but crumbs. 

When dinner is completed we return to the Privy Chamber. My skin itches as we enter the room where I received the news of my marriage. We are the first to arrive this time. A chair has been placed next to that of the King. I do not voice my concerns, but it appears to have been hastily made to mimic the King’s. 

“Must we meet all the dignitaries in private, your Grace?” I ask, running my hands over the wood of my chair. 

The King adjusts his doublet and slouches into his chair. I am a little shocked by how casual he is. 

“We meet almost none of them like this. But the Count of Artois is a special case. There is business with France and we must observe the protocols designed for this. The count is the uncle of the King of France and held in high favor at his court. We must be courteous even if we would rather greet him with a day’s work with a shovel in the horse stables…”

The King’s words explain well enough that Kylo does not favor the Count, but I cannot help but laugh at the image of that peacock feather bouncing along as the Count mucks out the stables. 

The King looks over at me and smiles. “I had forgotten.”

I look at him curiously.

“Forgotten what?”

He stands and approaches me. 

“The way your nose crinkles in the middle when you laugh.” He lifts my hand and brushes his lips softly against my fingers as he pulls me toward my seat. With a slight nod he indicates that I should sit and I am unable to say anything, drawn back as I am into the past. The fact that he remembers something so simple is truly perplexing. 

The King takes his seat and waits. Not long after, the council members join us and begin to take their seats. They all kneel to the King and bow politely to me. I try to give them a gracious smile, especially after the spectacle they witnessed between the King and I the other day. I try not to be too embarrassed. After all, it was the King who acted poorly, not me. The Cardinal is the last to join us. He is barely in his seat before the doors are opened.

From this vantage point I am able to imagine what I must have looked like as I was presented to the King. From this distance I must have looked small and inferior. I can only imagine how much this must have pleased the King. 

“The Count of Artois, uncle to His Majesty, the King of France.” The guard announces. 

The Count approaches and bows low to both of us. As a royal member of a foreign court, he is not obliged to kneel to a sovereign that he has not sworn fealty to.   
“Your Majesty, Your ladyship.” He greets us both before standing up straight. 

The King stands and makes a slight bow to the Count.   
“You are very welcome to our court. I hope the accommodations for you and your wife are satisfactory?”   
The Count nods and expresses his thanks graciously. I realize that although this man must have been an important political player during my youth, it is unlikely that I have met him. 

“May I introduce the Lady Desirey? You are one of her first introductions at court.” The King gestures to me and I stand and put out my hand to the Count.   
He gracefully bends over my fingers and ever so slightly brushes his lips over my knuckles.   
“Truly enchanted, you ladyship.” He says with his French accent gliding over the word ‘enchanted’.   
I smile at him. 

“Welcome, your Grace. Will your wife be joining us as well?” I am desperate for female company.   
The Count’s mouth twitches, but I cannot tell if it is hiding a smile or a frown.   
“I believe the Countess will be with us shortly, my lady.” 

As if on cue, the doors are thrown open again and who I assume must be the Countess walks in. On second thought, this is less of a walk and more like a prance.   
The Countess practically falls to her knees in a curtsy before she briefly smiles at the King and turns her attention to me. 

“Your highness, I am so honored to meet you. The journey took ages, but we are here now and I could not be more delighted!” 

I am stunned. 

The Countess must be at least fifteen years older than the Count. She is short of stature, but altogether wider in every respect. The wrinkles on her face and neck denote her age, but she wears a gown so drastically low cut I imagine even the King does not approve. Her blue eyes are merry and her full lips curve widely into a grin. Her face is swathed in powder and various cosmetics and she smells heavily of an orange peel fragrance. The Count’s peacock feather is dashing in his cap while the Countess has one almost twice the size of his in her pink wig. Her dress is also pink and covered with heavy gold embroidery and various gems. Every finger on her hands are covered with rings. There is a false beauty spot in the shape of a heart on her cheek. 

I love her immediately. 

“Speak my child!” She is almost bouncing with excitement. 

I still cannot believe that this woman has blatantly ignored the King and called me by my royal title publicly. I wish I could see the faces of the council. 

“Your Grace is very welcome to His Majesty’s court.” I smile and reach out a hand to grasp hers. 

“My darling you are an angel on earth. I cannot believe they have kept you from the world for so long. It is a shame and a scandal!” She grabs my face in both of her pudgy hands and kisses me on both cheeks in the French fashion. 

She turns to the King and puts her hands on her hips. 

“Your Majesty is truly a beast to have denied us our Princess.” She shakes a finger at him like he is a naughty child.   
The King appears to be holding back a grimace and I have to hold back my laughter. 

This woman is truly from another world. Who is she that she is allowed to speak this way? 

“My apologies, Madame.” The King squeezes out these words as if he is tasting a lemon. 

She spins around to her husband so fast her wig tilts dangerously. 

“We simply must be allowed to meet for tea and gossip tomorrow. We will invite her highness to our apartments, but someone must have it made ready at once.” 

“My darling, you must ask the King’s permission not mine.” The Count looks sheepishly around her wig to the King. 

She huffs as if this is of little importance and turns back to the King. 

King Kylo’s forehead has come together in multiple concerned lines, but he nods at the Countess.   
“Permission granted….of course.” His voice is flat, but she takes little notice.   
“Marvelous, simply exquisite! We shall see you in the morning, my own sweet peach.” With that she pinches my cheek, curtsys to the King, and bustles back out the doors. 

“My apologies, Your Majesty. You are aware that my wife can often be….demanding.” The Count says this last word with some strain.   
“We are well aware of your plight, your grace.” King Kylo says back and sighs.   
“The council will be introduced and then we can return to our evening. We will save our work for tomorrow. No doubt the Countess will be awaiting our return.”

After a round of introductions and reminiscing of council members who have met the Count before, we return to the Great Hall. The King and I are seated again and watch as the courtiers dance and laugh about the Hall. They are a merry group and are only spurred on by the music and drink available to them.   
I turn to the King, impatient to ask him what has been on the edge of my lips since our meeting with the Count and Countess. 

“The Countess of Artois..”

He interrupts and finishes for me.

“Is a truly a common fishwife dressed up in France’s crown jewels.”

I frown at his words.   
“She seems perfectly enjoyable to me.”

He looks at me from the corner of his eye and sips ale from his goblet. 

“She is overly familiar.” He grunts. 

“Yet you allow it? I must prostate myself upon the floor when you enter a chamber, but she can admonish you as if she is your mother.” I immediately remind myself that contradicting him is dangerous. I reach for my wine. 

“The Countess spent some time at court and at my country home when I was younger.” 

I think back. I surely would have remembered this boisterous lady. 

The King sees my confusion and adds “She was frequently occupied with my father in his bedchamber…”

My mind fills in the blanks. His mother died long before mine. The Countess must have stood in for his mother at a critical time in his upbringing. Her behavior begins to make sense. 

“I understand now.” I finish my wine and call for more. The Countess has made me feel relaxed and I take a moment to enjoy the wine. 

The dancing continues until the King calls for us all to retire. The court kneels to us as we leave the Great Hall. I expect the King to release me to my room, but he pulls at my hand.   
“We will go to the balcony.” And immediately his Knights begin to lead the way. 

I can tell that the night has grown cooler despite the warmth of the Great Hall.   
“I do not have a cloak, Your Majesty. You have forbidden me to catch cold.” I call back his words from earlier in the hopes that we will not be left alone again.   
“I will take personal care to keep you warm, my sweet.” The Kings winks down at me. 

Dear Lord keep this brief, I pray silently. 

We are led out to one of the many balconies facing out toward the lawn of Hampton Court. The sky is overcast and there are only a few stars visible behind the clouds. I walk toward the thick stone balustrade and continue to look up. The King is close behind me.

I place my hands on the balustrade and think of the time some of the children at court and I stole eggs from the kitchens and dropped them onto the cobbles below to see if they would crack. The mess was incredible. 

I feel the King behind me and suddenly he is standing flush against my back. His arms wind around me in a reverse form of a hug. He is warm. 

“I seem to remember writing some conditions in the letter I sent you with my gift.” He holds me tighter to his chest.   
I try not to roll my eyes. I’d forgotten about this. 

“I appreciate you sending the flowers back to me, your grace.” I try.   
He hums into my right ear as he nuzzles my hair away from it with his nose, waiting.   
“The earrings are beautiful too. Thank you.” 

I stiffen when he kisses the diamond attached to my earlobe before gently biting the curve of my ear. I gasp and try to pull my head away.   
He uses this motion to sweep my hair away from my shoulders, exposing my neck to him. 

“You are very welcome, Desirey.” He has started to brush kisses down the side of my jaw and onto my neck.  
My knees feel oddly weak. The King continues to kiss down my neck until he reaches the soft spot where my shoulder and neck connect. I close my eyes and a sound somewhere between a gasp and a mew escapes from my mouth. I feel the King’s lips smile against my skin before he proceeds to suck on the spot. 

“Your Majesty, I do not think-“   
His hand is flat against my stomach and he pushes me even closer into his embrace. 

“Do not try to proceed with your complaints. You are supposed to be thanking me.” I hear a warning in his voice and I try to relax. He continues to kiss and suck on my neck. I find that somewhere between my general fear of being alone with the King and my irritation at his physical advances, this touch feels oddly pleasing. His lips are extremely soft and he seems to know exactly where to move them. 

Perhaps if lean back against him for just a moment it might feel even better. My shoulders relax and I allow my head to fall back against the King’s chest. He is so large and I am completely dwarfed by his height and build. 

The King laughs softly.   
“I see that my kitten can be tamed if she is petted in just the right spot…” He kisses my neck again. 

I can think of nothing to retort back. His mouth is extremely distracting. I try to think clearly, but the King is turning me around to face him and my hands reach out instinctively against his chest. 

His eyes stare down into mine as one of his hands reaches up to my breast.   
“I wonder where else she might like to be touched…” I try to move again but he is holding me tightly against the balustrade. He hand is gentle, but insistent at my breast. 

He leans down ever closer and whispers. 

“Thank me properly, Lady Desirey.” 

He is so close I have no choice. I know what he wants and my stomach flips at the thought. 

I lift up slightly on my toes and press my lips to his. For the second time I am kissing the man who helped kill my father and ruined my youth. My stomach flips again, but differently as the Kings mouth works against mine and I find myself moving my lips in tandem with his.   
One of his fingers has made it inside the bodice of my gown and seems to be trying to find my nipple. I attempt to shift away without releasing his mouth, but this only serves to lodge his finger more deeply inside the fabric. His finger meets his mark. 

I open my mouth to protest and then his tongue is moving urgently against mine. I try to pull away at the sensation, but I am still trapped. I tentatively push my tongue back against his and they move together in a way that is not at all choreographed, but seems to work. The King groans from deep in his chest and pulls back from me. I take a few deep breaths and look up at him. His eyes have dilated and I see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. His finger is still pressed firmly against my nipple. 

“God help you.” He murmurs. 

“What?” I am confused and definitely disoriented. 

“I do not know how you will survive me, Desirey.” 

I feel myself come back to my senses as panic surges up inside me. 

“There are so many things your family allowed me to take from you, and yet I find that there is much more I wish to have.” His eyes are warm, but there is still something dark concealed behind his honeyed pools. 

“God help me.” I concur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone notices, please know that I am fully aware the forks were not used for dining in the Middle Ages, nor were women allowed to show their bare shoulders.   
> I've allowed myself some creative liberties with certain historical points so that they are easier to understand and visualize with our modern minds.


	10. The Cardinal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desirey meets with the Cardinal.

The King leans down and kisses me once more. There is predatory quality in this kiss and I feel as if I’m waking up from whatever daze I was in moments before. The King is still dangerous. If not to my physical wellbeing, definitely to my carefully guarded virginity. I will be a Queen beyond reproach. 

I gently pull back, trying to control my movements so that he does not think I’m trying to escape. 

I look up at him through my lashes with what I hope is an innocent stare. My lips instinctively form into a soft smile. He leans back from me with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. He pulls his finger out of my gown and runs a hand through his black hair. It falls neatly into place from where it has fallen during our intimacy. 

“I think it is best if we retire, Your Majesty.” I bow my head.   
“I look forward to the near future when I am not longer required to part from you.” He sighs heavily and I have no doubt in my mind that had I been a willing bride, he would have taken me to bed right this moment. 

“Just so,” I say and begin to step away from him. “I must sleep.”   
I am only a few paces away from him when he murmurs “Sleep while you can, my kitten.”   
On impulse, I curtsy to him instead of replying. 

I am back in my room putting on my nightdress. Anna has not returned and I am finding it hard to be alone in this room. What seemed like a luxury a few days ago has started to lose its shine. If I had parchment and ink I would begin a list of things to fill my apartments with. 

I place my new earrings back into the box and stare for a minute in the mirror. Nothing seems to have changed outwardly, but I definitely feel different inside. As if I have lived years in the last few days. I trail my hand over the spot on my shoulder where the King kissed it. It feels warm to the touch and I shiver again thinking of his mouth moving across it. It was embarrassing and pleasant all at the same time. Much like the sensation of his tongue in my mouth. I press my lips together quickly and try to force the idea out of my mind. I lower myself into bed and allow myself to sleep. 

I am awakened the next day by the soft press of someone sitting on the mattress of my bed. I slowly turn over and see a very tired looking Anna looking at me through bloodshot eyes.   
“Anna?” I lean up on my elbow and rub my own eyes. “Forgive me, but you look dreadful.” 

Anna chuffs out a small laugh. “I’ve just now been allowed to retire to bed.”

“Whatever took so long?” I’m sitting up now. Anna is my personal maid. She should have been in my room in case I had need of something in the night.   
“The other servants were required to start cleaning the barges. They’ve been left to collect moss and filth ever since the court moved here two months ago. I wanted to be useful.” Anna smiles a little. 

“Anna…” I stop. She is tired, but there is a lightness in her manner. She seems very relaxed for someone who has been overworked.

I open my mouth to speak, but she begins first. “I’ve met someone.”   
I blink at her. Anna has met someone? Who?  
She seems to anticipate my questions before I can ask.   
“He is a groom in the stables for Duke Hux.”   
I grimace at the Duke’s name, but urge her on. 

“He shares our sentiments about his master. He has been kind to me. I confess that last night…I sought him out. This is how I ended up helping with the barges. I apologize for not attending to you.” 

I have a brief moment of jealousy. While I have been suffering at the hands of the King, she has been mooning over a stable hand. I swallow down my irritation and try to draw from my love for her. This was something I wanted for her when I agreed to marry the King. She has not had this opportunity before because of her loyalty to me. 

“And what kind of man is he?” I am fully alert. 

Anna grins sheepishly. “His name is Thomas Therlin. His father was a farmer in Wiltshire and his mother worked alongside him. Their crops were bought for the court kitchens which is how he received the opportunity to join the Duke’s household. He has a sister who has continued to work on their farm with his family. He has never been married and…and..” She has become more excited.   
I smile to encourage her.   
“He has hair like an evening sunset.” Anna blushes. I continue to smile. Anna has always admired those with red hair. 

This is enough to squash my misgivings and reach for her hands. “As long as he is a perfect gentleman, I will not interfere. Your happiness is important to me. But he must allow you to sleep! I shall allow you a day of rest, but I expect that you will be bonny and bright tomorrow.” 

Anna is jubilant behind her tired eyes and assures me that they will be the picture of propriety. If only the King could be more like this Thomas Therlin. 

She remains with me as the wardrobe maids enter the room and I am informed that I must prepare for morning Mass in the chapel. I have been waiting for this opportunity. The King has not spoken to me at length about his religious dedication, but I suspect that his seemingly close relationship with Cardinal Winterburn must mean that he attends to his duties as a faithful Catholic. Mass is held in the morning and the evening, but having seen the King at all hours of the day, I assume he has missed a few of these. 

My gown today is made of black velvet with lace edging on the neckline and cuffs. It is purposely demure for the religious ceremony. My hair is twisted up into a high bun. A light black veil is placed over my head at my insistence. The King can be angry about it if he wishes, but I will be dressed appropriately while I am at prayer. 

There is prompt knock at the door and I find one of the Knights of Ren waiting to take me to the King.   
The palace is quiet as we make our way to the chapel. As we approach, I hear the faint sound of the eunuch choir. We arrive and the King is there waiting for me. The knight that escorted me steps back in line with the others in his group. 

“My lady.” The King reaches for my hand, but does not kiss it. He looks at me briefly before we line up at the door to the chapel. We enter and the court has already taken their seats in the mahogany pews. The chapel is as beautiful as I remember with the deep blue ceiling and gilt moldings. The sanctuary remains a testament to English architecture and reverence. 

We reach the end of the aisle and the King kneels before the golden statue of Christ on the cross. I follow his lead and we are seated as the service begins. The King’s attention never wavers and I do not dare to look around at those who have joined us. I will be the picture of propriety and humility. There will be no one to challenge my breeding in this respect. 

The service completes and we stand to leave. The King pulls me along toward the chapel doors, but leads us into a small alcove leading to a back hallway. 

“The Cardinal will escort you back to his private chambers to meet with you today. I expect you to behave properly. Do not give him any trouble.” His sternness today is a far cry from his behavior on the balcony last night.   
I open my mouth to assure him he has nothing to worry about, but I he stops me with a strong squeeze to my forearm.   
I wonder why his mood has soured or if everything I do is an affront to him personally. I remain silent and look away boredly. If he is going to be contrary then so will I. 

Cardinal Winterburn meets us only seconds later and bows to both of us.   
“I am honored that your Majesty has asked me to help prepare the Lady Desirey ahead of your marriage. The painters are putting fresh paint on the ceiling within the next day or so. You can rest assured that the chapel will be shown to its full advantage for the ceremony.” The Cardinal juts his somewhat prominent belly forward as he laces his hands behind his back. 

The King thanks the Cardinal and we part to our respective duties. The Cardinal leads me to his apartments that are kept relatively close to the King’s. His door is guarded by men bearing his ecclesiastical seal. The doors are opened and the Cardinal beckons me in first. 

For a man who has forsworn the trappings of earthly wealth for an immediate path to Heaven and God’s favor, his apartments are sumptuously made. The wooden floors have been oiled to a perfect shine and the walls are hung with red velvet tapestries and various paintings. There are large windows on both the interior and exterior walls that must be washed daily to allow them to be so clear. His furniture is carved in the Italian style and bear his crest repeatedly. 

“Please be seated, my lady.” The Cardinal says and we take our places at a small table covered in a white cloth. A glass goblet of water sits in front of both of us.   
“I trust you are finding the court to your liking, Lady Desirey?” He begins as he adjusts his Cardinal’s robes in his seat. I imagine he is just as warm as the ladies of court are under all those layers. 

“The court is very like the one I lived in during my youth, with a few differences.” I say, trying not to say anything rude.   
The Cardinal smiles at me and leans forward in his chair.   
“His Majesty expressed a need for you to be instructed on the nature of your duties as a wife and future Queen of this country.”  
“I am well aware of what is expected of a Queen, your Eminence.” I interject before he can go on. 

His smile does not falter, but I do see a twitch in his cheek that tells me he is also making an effort not to be rude.   
“While the King’s court recognizes that you held rank before your departure from court, you must realize that being the King’s wife requires you follow a different role that you were previously prepared for. The King is your sovereign lord and master. You are to be his consort.”

I feel my blood grow hot. 

“And just what is the King expecting from his consort?”  
The Cardinal leans back in his chair and folds his hands over his belly. 

“As the King’s wife and queen you will be required to support him through his reign as he addresses foreign and local issues, maintain the court and the positions of those in it, and provide him with heirs. You will be a model for the women of the court on how to live an obedient and holy life with your husband. They will look to you remind them to be devout, pliant, amenable to your husband, and a caring mother to your children.”   
He says this as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Your Eminence has said nothing of my role in the politics of this country.” I arch an eyebrow at him. 

At this, he frowns.   
“Your ladyship must understand that as a consort you hold no political power. You are to obey the wishes of your husband and agree with him on what he declares is law.” 

I frown back at him. 

“What would I do if the King’s policies are in direct contradiction to my own opinions? Surely you cannot expect me to simply agree with him because he says so? He and I must be able to share our reasoning and come to a solution that is beneficial for the court and the kingdom.”

A wrinkle forms in the Cardinal’s forehead.   
“My lady, you cannot possibly be suggesting that you intend to…instruct the King on his policies. You are a woman. More importantly when you are the King’s wife your first duty is to provide England with an heir, not to dictate policies!”

I take a sip of my water and sit up straighter. 

“You seem to forget, your Eminence, that I was raised to be able to dictate policies and challenge the views of those in my court. You might have known more of this had you been appointed as our Cardinal when I was a child. However, it seems my father did not think much of your skills back then and I confess I can see why.” This is a slight and he knows it. The wrinkle on his forehead deepens. 

“The King will not tolerate unnatural behavior from his wife, nor allow you to insert those notions into the minds of those at court. You will submit to the King and be an example to the court and to the world of what happens when women think to attain a position above men!” His voice has risen and there are red splotches on his neck. 

“Your memory is certainly mistaken if you are suggesting that I was the one to determine my destiny. I am my father’s natural heir. He was an anointed king and this was the position I was born to.” I am indignant. Does this cleric truly think to lecture me on my place? 

“Your ‘destiny’ has been determined by those who know what is best for this kingdom. Perhaps if your late father had followed his duties as a king and provided a male heir for this country, he would not have been tossed into the Thames as meal for the fish and eels.” The Cardinal smirks unpleasantly at me. 

I stand so abruptly that my chair rocks backward before coming to rest on its four feet again. 

“I am and remain the Queen of the country, no matter who chooses to deny it! How dare you speak to me of my father? What you say is a disgusting lie!” My breath is coming hard and my hands are fisted at my sides. 

Did they really throw his body into the River Thames? I might be sick. 

The Cardinal is silent for a moment.  
“What you say is treason, my lady.” His fingers steeple over his stomach and I have the strong urge to throw my glass of water across the table at him. 

“Treason and truth have often walked a dangerous line.” I counter and walk toward the door. This man is no friend to me. 

“It would be wise for you to remember that while you are under the protection of the King, the Holy Catholic Church does not hold such progressive views of a woman’s place.”

I stop as I reach for the door. Kings and Queens are anointed by God through the workings of the Catholic Church and the Pope in Rome. The Cardinal represents the Pope here in England and it would be unwise to aggravate someone with connections to such power. Unfortunately, it is too late for that. 

“I will endeavor to continue to learn my place, your Eminence.” I toss over my shoulder, but I do not turn around. This is the last time I will be alone with this man.

As his guard closes the door behind me, I am struck by the knowledge that the Cardinal will certainly report back to the King. I have flouted his wishes and there is a creeping dread in my stomach. I realize it would be best to take sanctuary with the Countess of Artois for tea before the King can drag me away for my disobedience. I quickly ask one of the waiting guards to take me to my room to be changed and delivered to the Countess. 

I have just finished being changed into a gown of soft yellow lawn with a large silver tissue sash when there is a knock at the door. Anna and my dressing maids have barely a moment to turn around before the King has stomped into the room. 

My heart sinks. I should have gone to the Countess immediately. That rat of a Cardinal must have scurried straight to the King. 

By the look blazing in the King’s eyes, I know this to be true.   
He bows slightly to me, but I can read his impatience.   
“My lady, I would speak with you privately. Your women are dismissed.” The ladies quickly gather my discarded clothing and move toward the door. Anna hovers a few paces away from me, but the King looks at her sharply and she hurries off behind the other women. 

We are alone. 

I curtsy to him, but remain standing at my looking glass. I turn back and forth to gauge my reflection while the King stares at my back.   
“I have just come from an urgent audience with the Cardinal.” He crosses his arms.   
“Oh?” I say and put a hand to the curls piled on top of my hair. There is a pin digging into my scalp. 

“He has informed me of your inappropriate behavior.” He takes a step closer to me. I continue to fiddle with my hair. 

“If his information is to be trusted, then I must assume he has informed you of his own inappropriate behavior as well?” My voice is light, but I know I am testing the King. 

“He is a representative of the Pope, Desirey. You are not to argue or displease him. You have directly disobeyed what I told you this morning.” He has moved forward yet again and is gripping the back of a chair behind me. In the mirror I see his long body lean forward as he shifts his weight to his hands. I am certain he could easily snap a grown man’s neck with the force those hands might be able to exert. 

“Cardinal Winterburn has poorly represented the church and his master, the Pope. I cannot be held accountable for his disrespectful behavior.”  
“His instructions are a reflection of the Church’s expectations and the laws put in place in England, and by me. To flout them is to flout me.” His hands squeeze the back of the chair and I refuse to raise my eyes to his.   
The King is defending the Cardinal’s behavior and I refuse to back down. The Cardinal’s comments about my father’s murder have picked open the scab over my heart left by his death. 

“If I did not know better, your grace, I would think that you are here at the command of the Cardinal. I have upset him by asserting my place at court and you are immediately at my door to reprimand me.”

I still do not turn around, but chance a glance back at the King’s face. There is color in his cheeks.   
Good. 

“The power of a sovereign is through divine right from God and the church. Warring with the church has led to more than a few dead and deposed kings. England has lost one king to incompetence. I will not be the next one.” He stands up straight again.

My fury is enough that I finally turn around to face him. 

“My father was not incompetent! He was the victim of ruthless and disloyal courtiers. He trusted your father and look how he repaid him!”   
I realize I am shouting.   
“Is your fear of deposition so strong because you have watched it occur before your very eyes? Do you truly wear the crown of England on your head or does the Cardinal simply hold it above you? Perhaps he is the real King of England.” 

The laugh I intended to let out after these words dies in my throat as the King lunges at me.   
I try to step away toward my bed, but he has me about the waist and is dragging me toward the door.

“Get off me!”

I attempt to reach out for the chair he was gripping only moments before when the King surprisingly drags me toward it. 

“Your behavior is the result of too many years of indulgence by your father and isolation at Hatfield. It is time for you to learn your place.” The King’s left hand squeezes around my waist while he uses his right hand to shove my shoulders and stomach over the back of the chair. The chair digs into my stomach and I put my arms down on the seat to help push my torso up. The King shoves me back toward the velvet seat and I feel the tips of my toes threaten to leave the floor.

The King begins to pull up the back of my dress. 

This is it. He is not going to wait.

I start to struggle again as I try to support myself on my forearms. The lightness of the lawn dress has betrayed me and the King has reached the bottom layer. 

“Stop!” I scream as he pulls the soft cloth away from my ankles and up over my hips. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror in front of me. My naked bottom is straight up in the air and the King has gripped my hips firmly against the back of the chair. 

“I’ll scream!” I threaten, but the King does not seem to be trying to remove his breeches. 

The King smirks at me in the mirror, pulls his hand back and spanks me, hard, on the bottom.   
I scream as his palm connects with my bare skin. Tears immediately leak from my eyes.   
He spanks me again and again. The sound of the slap echoes through my room and I am equally stunned and furious. 

The King laughs behind me as I try to pull away.   
“I was not lying when I said I would take you over my knee if you disobeyed me. I confess that this view is preferred.” He hits me again and I squeal. 

“You..will..be..obedient..” He punctuates these words with slaps. I am sobbing in earnest between each yelp he elicits. 

“Please-Please!”   
He continues to spank me four more times with little mercy. My bottom is reflected crimson in the mirror. His eyes leave my backside only briefly to smile at my reflection. 

“You have the most charming little arse. I wonder how much redder it would be if I used my belt…” He hits me again and I feel myself come undone. I am both ashamed and in agonizing pain. 

The King spanks me one more time before pulling my torso up to lean back against him. My head falls limply to my chest. 

The King thrusts his hips forward and I feel what must be his firm cock pushing against his breeches. 

He has enjoyed this. 

I try not to retch and it comes out as a pitiful sob.   
“You will learn to obey me or you will become accustomed to pleasing me in other ways.”  
He grinds his hips into my bottom and I feel his desire again. He holds me there for another moment before stepping away. 

I immediately collapse on the floor. 

“You are a monster!” I exclaim through my sobs. 

The King grins down at me.   
“Armitage prefers to use the iron poker from his fire place…” His voice trails off as if this is supposed to leave me room to change my mind. 

I swallow and look away from him. 

He reaches down and grabs my chin. 

“You are reported to be a quick learner. So learn from this…” He squeezes my chin and forces me to look up at him.   
I do my best to glare through my tears. 

“Or do not.” He shrugs nonchalantly, but his eyes are still dark. “I will have you either way.”


	11. A Treaty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desirey has tea with the Countess and learns some new information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay!

I am still wiping my eyes and blowing my nose when Anna returns to the room. She curtsies and looks at me with wide eyes.   
I look at her pitifully. 

“I have displeased the King and have received my punishment.” I say bitterly before quickly recounting what has happened.   
Anna crosses herself quickly and says a Hail Mary.   
“Your Highness I-“ 

“Please, Anna, you do not need to advise me. Just bring me a salve for my buttocks or I shall not be able to meet with the Countess.”  
Anna nods and leaves to follow my instructions. My cheeks are still pink, but my face has lost some of the puffiness from earlier. The Countess is so exuberant, perhaps she will not notice. 

I feel a little better after Anna helps me apply a salve of lavender and mint. My bottom still burns and I have to force myself to forget what the King said about his belt. Anna adjusts a few pins in my hair and I am presentable for tea. 

A guard brings me to the apartments of the Count and Countess. This part of the palace is busy and filled with pages and maids moving back and forth on errands. There are platters of food and laundry and piles of linens moving in the arms. I gather this is where those that are not usually visiting court stay. It is pleasantly distracting to see all of the livery of the separate families hustle past me. Almost everyone I see bows or curtseys to me. It seems I have begun to be recognized and accepted. 

I consider this a small victory until my gown drags against my left buttock and I am firmly reminded of how I have paid for the privilege. 

The guard knocks at what must be the correct door and it is immediately thrown open by the Countess.   
“Your highness…” She draws out the ‘s’ sound at the end of the word and almost collapses into a curtsey. The guard next to me stares at her in blatant disapproval. I wonder for a moment about whether her fellow courtiers in France are as patient as those in England. 

I enter the room and the Countess practically slams the door in the face of the guard. 

“Please make yourself at home, my darling. Anything we have is at your disposal and what we may lack, the Count will acquire for you within a matter of moments.” I see that the Countess is sweating and almost panting with excitement. She is truly one of a kind.

“I do hope your grace has not gone through much trouble. After all, it is just tea.” I give her a small smile and reach for her hand. 

Once again her fingers are bedecked in jewels and she is dressed as if she is attending a court masque instead of afternoon tea. One would think she was the queen by how many pearls have been woven through her hair. Her gown is a shocking cobalt blue and I am momentarily transported to the night of my court presentation before I blink and smile brightly at her. 

“Your humility is inspiring, but we must entertain you properly! I will not return to France without the assurance that I have adequately honored the Queen of England in my own apartments.” Her bright eyes are indignant, but never lose their sparkle. 

“She means she will not return to France until she has thoroughly and irresponsibly depleted my coffers with the excuse that economical spending is reserved for those of the lower class…”  
The Count’s voice interrupts us as he enters the room from a door. I can only assume this leads to their bedroom. The Count bows low to me before approaching his wife. 

“Why have a royal family if we are not allowed the trappings of our station? Besides, it is not everyday one becomes the bosom friend of the infamous Lancastrian Rose!” 

She shoots an exasperated look at the Count, but I have to smile at her use of my old nickname. The common people are notorious for showing their love for their monarchs with nicknames. My father used to say it gave us a touch of humility to balance our exalted station. 

The Count makes a slight bow to his wife while his face cracks into a smile. “Forgive me, my darling. Once again you have bested me with your charm and intelligence.” His eyes dance as he brings the hand of the Countess to his amused lips. 

“My superiorrr intelligence.” She pouts back at him as she draws out the second word, but her eyes are laughing.   
I feel a slight pang in my chest at their obvious adoration of one another. 

The Count excuses himself and the Countess leads me to her gilt table that has been set for tea. Everything around us is emblazoned with the embroidered and painted coat of arms of the French Royal Family.  
The Countess pours our tea and I politely take a sip of an exotically spiced tea with just a hint of a fruity taste I am not familiar with. 

“Thank you for inviting me, your grace. I am just beginning to make new friends at court.” I say as I place my china cup back in its saucer. Even the rim of this cup is painted gold. 

“Please, think nothing of it, your majesty. I confess I am guilty of wanting to know all of the gossip surrounding your return to court. Why, it’s almost the stuff of ancient folktales, complete with a dramatic turn of events. The build up was positively criminal for those of watching from across the pond!” She looks at me expectantly over the rim of her teacup as she takes a sip. 

I take a deep breath and try to relax my face. What does she mean by a build up? 

“I fear there is not much to tell. I have been brought out of exile to marry the King. He….honors me.” I try to put some joy into my voice, however, I doubt the Countess has noticed. 

She reaches out one of her pudgy hands and grasps a sweetmeat before she quickly swallows it. I realize the small cakes and sweets on the table have been dusted with some kind of blue powder. The Countess is obviously one to take a theme seriously. 

“Come come, my darling, do not be coy! An old woman like myself has seen it all and I crave the tales of romance and wooing. Why, perhaps you have heard about my relationship with the King’s father? I have stories that would make the Pope blush.” She chuckles a little. 

“Your grace, you cannot possibly think-“ I am a little taken aback. Is she really referring to her affair with King Kylo’s father as if she is discussing a change in the weather? 

“Please my darling, call me Alexandra. No titles among friends. Besides, it is only appropriate that you allow an old crone like me to advise you on a happy marriage, especially being the motherless thing you are.” Her eyes are kind and her words spark curiosity inside me. 

“You-You spoke of your time with the late King, but..you are married to the Count?” I try. 

The Countess beams.   
“Ahh yes. I was quite the tart in my younger days. I fear my father despaired of me. While I may not look it now, I was considered quite the beauty. My father was of the merchant class, but we were among the wealthiest in Paris. My father took it upon himself to elevate our status by making me a marriage that was further above my station than many in society wanted to accept. My first husband was a doddering old man of 65 with barely a hair left on his head. He was a Duke in the French court, but a relatively boring one… One look at him across the great hall of the French Court and I was hurrying off to lose my maidenhead in the hay with a dashing redheaded stable boy..” 

I almost drop my teacup. 

“You did not to go to your husband’s bed a maid?” I am trying very hard not to be incredulous.   
The Countess tosses her shoulders back and looks at me slyly from the corner of her eye. 

“Darling, I was the ripe age of 17 and I refused to let myself be scared by old Benedict’s wilting carrot when the delicious Ferdinand waited willingly above the horses. In fact, it made Benedict’s pained grunting far more bearable after I knew what to expect once he would inevitably die and I found my next husband. Alas, Benedict was not long for the world and within two years he was dead and I was even richer than before and a Duchess to boot!” She takes a self satisfied sip of her tea and drains the cup. 

I hesitate a little before I speak again, but her story has fascinated me. I am oddly intrigued by her promiscuous behavior. 

“What did you do next?”

“The true question is WHO did I do it with next, my sweet. The King of France at the time was desperate to catch my fortune and land, but I had plans to travel the continent. I spend time in Spain and Belgium, even a trip to Italy for a few months where I enjoyed the attentions of a very devilish Cardinal, but I refuse to say who so do not think to ask.” She winks at me and I feel my mouth gaping. 

“But, a cardinal?! He is a man of the church!”

“I made my confession to him before I left.” She winks again and leans forward to refill her tea. 

“Eventually I made my way to your quaint England and met your soon to be husband’s father. Mind you, you was not the king yet.” She has enough grace at this moment to frown and give me a look of polity pity.   
“I met your father too and he was truly a man of regal stock.”

We are both quiet for a moment. I do not trust myself to speak, unsure if I will reprimand her or beg her for more. 

“But the King’s father was a man of such distinct tastes, I confess I spent more time in his manor house than I did exploring the countryside.”  
I can tell I am gaping and reach for a sweetmeat. It has the soft taste of almonds and marzipan. I wonder if my teeth with be blue after I am done.   
The Countess looks at me expectantly. 

“And what of your marriage to the count?”

She frowns. “Oh that. The King finally convinced me to come home to marry his younger brother and take up a place in the Royal Family. You’ll have barely noticed the Count is younger than me by a paltry 16 years and two days….”

She looks at me carefully as she says this, perhaps to gauge my shock, but I am able to politely keep it at bay. I do not want to insult her. 

“By then the King was eager to keep my fortune in France and better yet, absorb it into the French coffers. I realized early on that I was barren, which was not a problem for my husband and pleased my King immensely. No chance of his brother’s children attempting to usurp him, you see. Not that he had to worry for long. His son has succeeded him and has since gotten two bastard sons and a legitimate heir besides. The Count is a fine husband and immensely entertaining. He is tolerant, but sometimes a little slow to act. He needed a wife like me to pull him into society.” 

I nod slowly at this. The current French King must be roughly the same age as King Kylo. I wonder if they have ever met in person. 

“But enough about me, it is you I want to know more about. Your romance with the King must already be blooming to legendary heights if his father’s legacy is anything to go by…” She trails off and looks at me expectantly again. 

“I cannot say it has been quite as simple as that…” I shift a little in my chair and try not to wince at the pain in my backside. 

“You needn’t be shy, my dear. Why, his father once arranged for a lengthy carriage ride around his property in which time we had coupled three times in the span of an hour and still managed to arrive back in time for dinner.” She is laughing lightly at the memory. 

I shift uncomfortably again. 

“The King has not…that is to say we have not…” I am stammering and I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks. 

“No need to be embarrassed, my dear. It is natural to desire your husband, even if you have not been to the chapel yet. Unless of course, you have been unable to wait?” She looks pointedly at my stomach and I feel my teeth clench. 

“I remain a maid, Madame. The King is aware that I will not compromise on this, as it required by our station.” 

The Countess smiles at me and reaches over to pat the hand I have been gripping my lace napkin in. 

“Of course, darling, of course! But the King is a passionate man. I remember a few young maids to have been dismissed from his household before they could get themselves into trouble. I declare it is a miracle he has not fathered a convent full of bastards by now, considering how often he was chasing after any young maid to enter the room with a basket of laundry.” She smiles at me again and I get the feeling she is mistaking my embarrassment for bridal nerves and not discomfort with the topic of the King’s sexual indiscretions. 

“In any case you can be assured he will treat you well. I hope your honeymoon is long enough that you might spend time together outside of your marriage bed, although I have no doubt that your time there will be ecstasy. As I mentioned, his father was truly renowned to make no mention of his extremely large-“

“Alexandra!” I cannot help myself. “I do not feel this is appropriate!” I feel myself breathing hard and my hands are now gripping the edge of the table.   
The Countess looks at me, her eyebrows pushing together.   
“My dear, I feel as if…perhaps…you are not looking forward to your marriage? I was under the impression there was a romance for the ages between you and the King.”

Her entire expression has changed and I am trying very hard to calm down. 

“Why would you think that?” My voice sounds small and pitiful in her apartments. I fear that she will decide that my dour demeanor is not, in fact, welcome in her beautiful French room. 

The Countess looks puzzled. 

“The Treaty? Between my King and yours?”

I stare at her blankly. “What treaty?” 

Her face falls.   
“The French King has been threatening to invade England every year since King Kylo has taken the throne. Surely you must know that he intended to claim you as his bride and thereby join France and England under joint rule? The Pope even became involved once France began to muster troops and combatants.”  
She is searching my eyes for understanding, but I know she is finding none. 

“Please, continue.” I am staring her directly in the eyes. Almost without blinking. 

“The Pope refused to grant the King of France troops to invade England on the grounds that it would bring unnecessary loss of life to both countries. He maintains a strong alliance with both countries and does not wish to breach it for either side, especially since prosperity in each kingdom means his tithes remain uninterrupted.” She frowns at this, but does not criticize the Pope outright. 

“King Kylo has publicly claimed that the love the two of you bear each other would make it impossible for you to marry the King of France, and that if he invaded, you would refuse to marry him on the grounds that you were pre-contracted to King Kylo.” 

I stand so quickly that my chair scrapes against the lush carpet. 

“A pre-contract!? But those are legally binding in the courts of England and in the Catholic Church!” 

The Countess nods and continues to stare at me.   
“Which is why King Kylo was ordered pay a heavy fine to the Pope in Rome, which he has most certainly transferred back to my King in France. My nephew, the King, was irate at the thought of England, and you, slipping from his grasp. Since you are pre-contracted to the King, you are as good as married. An annulment would need to be acquired for you to marry the King of France. Since he has already buried one wife, but has a living male heir, the Pope has ordered him to stand down and allow King Kylo to stay his course.” Her lips have become a tight line. 

“And the reason for the Pope requiring the fine?” 

“The King has essentially married you without the approval of the Church. Forgive me, but even though your father was deposed and you were exiled, you are still considered by many to be the heir to England. In order to remain in favor with the Pope, Kings must approve their marriages with the Pope in order for balance to remain with the right families.” 

The King’s words come back to me from the night he ripped open my corset. 

‘I only want to see what I have paid dearly for….’

My stomach rolls and I lean against the table. 

“I regret to inform your grace that this is not a romantic story. I…have been a pawn.” 

The Countess stands and reaches out to me. Her eyebrows have pushed together and she looks genuinely concerned.   
“I am sorry. I did not realize this was not known to you.” Her arms come around me as she bends me to her shoulder. Her plum bosom and arms welcome me into one of the first hugs I have had in years, aside from the loving arms of Anna. 

I feel tears begin to leave my eyes. 

I have been tricked. The King has done this intentionally and has played the courts of England against me. Even if I do try to escape to a foreign power, who would take me?   
In the eyes of the Church and every court in Europe, I am already Kylo’s wife. 

The Countess pats my back softy and holds me tightly.   
“There, there, my little Queen. It cannot be all bad. After all, you will have your throne and a handsome husband close to your age. Perhaps in time you will come to love him if, as I realize now, you may not right now.” 

One of her many ropes of pearls is digging into my forehead as I cry softly into her shoulder. 

“I am scared.” I say, vulnerably. 

The Countess pulls away from me and uses her handkerchief to wipe my tears. 

“Marriage can be terrifying. But you must take your situation and make it work for you. After all, isn’t that what I did before I was married?” She smiles warmly at me and I feel a brief smile tug at my lips. 

“Are you suggesting I have illicit relations with the stable hands?” I try to joke, but it sounds bitter. I blink down at her. 

The Countess gives me a sad smile.   
“You are the Queen. You must behave like a queen. But you may be able to bend the King to your will in time.” 

I pause as I think. “My maid has said as much to me.”

She clutches my hands in hers and squeezes.   
“Your maid is wise. It is no secret to anyone who has seen you with the King that he is enamored. Why, his eyes barely leave you for a moment.” She attempts a cheerful chuck under my chin.   
I do not tell her that these are the watchful eyes of a man guarding his possession, not a lovesick bridegroom. 

I return to my bedroom after taking my leave of the Countess. We ended our time together with her cheerful disposition attempting to dispel the gloom cloaked around me as she encouraged me to eat half a plate of the almond sweets. I complied and feel a little better for it.   
I notice the time on the clock that has been placed in my room and realize the hour for tea with the King approaches. I cannot decide if my lack of appetite is from all the food I ate with the Countess, or my dread at being in a room with the man I have grown to loathe even more in the last few hours.   
Anna arrives promptly to prepare me for the tea, but I do not allow her to change my clothes. She notices my foul mood, but does not ask. I realize she has become far more reserved since we arrived at Court. She must be scared for both of us. I cannot blame her. 

The King is in his dining chamber when I arrive, looking much the same as he did the last time we had tea. 

I curtsy to him and wait for him to let me stand. 

He says nothing as he sets a letter neatly in a stack at his place before approaching me.   
He tilts my chin up and smirks. 

“Good afternoon, Desirey.”   
I do not respond and glare up at him.   
His hand squeezes my chin. 

“Greet your king before he reminds you how it should be done.” His eyes are instantly cold. 

“Good afternoon, your Majesty.” I say without blinking.   
He drops his hand and I rise. 

When we stand close like this I am reminded at how immensely tall he is. His unfathomable height and size makes it difficult for me to think clearly. I have to try consciously not to tremble. 

He walks to my chair and pulls it out for me.   
I attempt to arrange myself in the chair without wincing when my sore bottom hits the cushion. I feel myself rise a bit in response to the pain. 

The King misses nothing. 

“Is something bothering you, my sweet.” He smile is wolfish as he pauses next to my chair and looks down at me. He is even larger from this angle. My eyes are level with the leather belt holding his court sword. I shudder. 

“Nothing, your majesty.” I lie. 

He smirks again and makes his way back to his chair where he arranges himself in and looks back at me.   
“I had the servants pour your tea, but I explained that you would be serving me from now on in order to learn how to be a good wife.” He inclines his head toward the teapot closest to him. 

I give him a slight nod and rise. He made me sit on purpose to cause me pain. 

I reach for his teapot and pour the black tea into his cup, refusing to look at him, though he attempts to catch my eye.   
I turn to put the pot down and am pitched back into the King’s lap before I can step away. 

The force of my bottom hitting the top of his thighs is enough to make me yelp in pain. 

“Hmmm…” He breathes into my ear as he pulls me back against his chest. He seems to enjoy this position. Me, trapped against him, my neck exposed as if he would drink from the blood in my neck like the myths of fanged monsters told to children to keep them in bed. 

“Could it be that you are experiencing some pain? Whatever from?”

He is toying with me. Daring me to complain. 

“It is nothing, your majesty.” 

He bites at my ear, hard.   
“I forbid you to lie to me.” His voice is hard and I can feel the anger rise in him by the shift of his body. 

“Yes, your majesty. I am in pain.” I quickly amend and try to lean forward and away from him. 

“You have not explained why…” He trails off. 

“Because…Because…” I stammer, ashamed. He is trying to upset me. 

His arms are so tight around me, I feel as if he is trying to squeeze the life out of me.  
“My bottom. It hurts.” I allow this to squeak through my teeth. 

“And why is that, Desirey?” The King’s arms are still squeezing. 

I shake my head. I refuse to say the words he is looking for. After his treatment of me in my room and the information I gleaned from the Countess, I am bursting with anger and I will not allow him another victory. 

The King makes a deep sound of exasperation and drags me out of the chair. 

“I suppose that means I must inspect the cause for myself!” He is angry and his eyes blaze as he drags me by my wrist to the a door in the dining chamber.   
I barely notice the rooms we go through before we are in what must be his bathing chamber. I have never been in this room before, but it is similarly styled to the one reserved for the queen. 

There are multiple clear mirrors arranged by a simple chair. The room smells of pine and there are jars holding shaving tools and shears arranged near the mirrors. This must be where he shaves and has his hair cut. 

I have a moments panic when I see the shears and wonder for a moment if he is going to stab me or cut off my gown. 

“Please, your majesty, I-“

“Silence! You will learn to speak when you are asked to. If you are unable to do so, then you will suffer the consequences.” He uses the hand not holding mine to push his black hair away from his eyes as he drags me in front of the mirrors. He violently kicks the chair out of the way and spins me around so that my face is pressed against his chest. 

My nose pushes into the space somewhere above his navel. 

How is it possible that he is so tall?

His free arm snakes around my waist while his other hand begins to pull up the back of my gown. Once again, the light lawn crumples quickly into his greedy hands.   
I let my arms fall to my sides. I am exhausted from fighting him and my emotions all day. 

I feel the cool air of the room meet my backside and I suck in a breath knowing that he is staring. 

He takes a breath and I feel one of his knuckles drag slowly across my left buttock. 

I flinch and bury my face into his doublet. He is as unmovable as a tree trunk. 

His breath hitches for just a moment before he lowers his lips to the top of my hair.   
“You have been bruised, my sweet. How can it be that your plump little arse has come to so much damage?” 

His voice has taken on that dangerous sweetness he uses when he is toying with me.   
I have no choice but to give him what he wants. 

“I was disobedient.” I mutter into the dark fabric in front of me.   
He huffs out a small laugh and I feel the warm breath travel across my scalp. 

“And what happens when you are disobedient?” I feel his finger skimming my buttock. 

“I will be punished.”

“By whom?” Another finger has joined the first, slowly traveling the swell of my bottom and back up again. 

“You.” I say simply. 

All five of his fingers squeeze my buttock tightly and I inhale sharply. 

“Who?” He is insistent. 

“You, Your Majesty.” I feel resigned to this annoying habit of his. So obsessed with his power that he will not allow me to forget it for one moment. 

“You are quite right, Desirey. Look at your punishment.”

He leans away from my head and allows me room to crane my neck backward. In the multiple mirrors I can see the slight blue shadow of bruising from his spanks across both of my buttocks. The spots that are not bruised are an angry red. I can only imagine how they will look in the morning. 

I let my eyes travel up to my face and while I have not allowed myself to cry, my cheeks are as red as my bottom with anger and shame. 

I take a moment to take in how small I look pressed up against the massive black clad form of the King. I am conscious of the slight but insistent press of his groin against my bodice and I repress a shudder. 

My eyes go up and I meet his in the mirror.   
If I thought he looked predatory before it is nothing compared to this. 

Standing there with his hand gripping my backside and his other at my waist, his face is triumphant and inflamed with desire. I know he is relishing the fact that I am completely at his mercy.   
I have a stunning realization that this is a dangerous thing, especially when the King has proved his inability to impart his mercy upon me.


	12. Shears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desirey confronts the King in his bathing chamber.

It requires a strong effort not to cry as I stand there in his grip, waiting for whatever he intends to do next. 

I feel his hand lift and the back of my gown rustles back down to the floor. He tucks my head under his chin again. With a slight shift of his hip, we begin to sway together. I try to resist, but the weight of his body forces me to move with him, as if we are dancing.   
I try to let my shoulders relax. The feeling of swaying with him is almost tender, but I cannot help the way my fingers curl into fists.

He has degraded me. 

He has lied to me. 

He...bought me. 

“There is much for you to learn, Desirey. I will have to be patient with you.”  
I stop myself from muttering any number of cutting remarks back at him. 

“After all, it is a woman’s natural place to obey her husband. I am not asking anything from you that is not commanded of any other member of your sex.” 

We are still swaying. I am leaning against him, but my mind continues to race.   
He killed my family.   
He has trapped me.   
He intentionally kept the truth from me. 

“You will learn to appreciate what I have given you and you will be grateful.”   
I feel my forehead begin to sweat and I move it up and then down again as I attempt to wick the moisture away against his doublet. My fingernails are digging into my palms.   
He must mistake this movement for a nod because he reaches a hand into my hair and begins to pull out the pins. 

“Your hair is lovely,” his wraps a strand through his fingers like he is examining a silk ribbon. “I look forward to seeing it splayed out across my pillows…” 

My breath catches as his hand leaves my waist and travels down to my bottom. I cannot help the hiss of pain as he reaches down and lifts me, my bottom supported by his massive forearm. 

He has lifted me high enough that my eyes are level with his. I try to look away, but he tugs my hair so that my face turns. 

“Perhaps you would like to apologize for your behavior today?” He cocks an eyebrow and his eyes are light. 

It is amazing to me that his mood can shift so rapidly. 

I am having trouble controlling my roiling emotions following my time with the Countess.   
“I am sorry, your majesty.” I say, but my voice is flat. 

His small smile turns down at one corner.   
“Not very convincing.” He pulls my hair again and I am forced to arch my head backward. 

“I am sorry!” I almost shout. The pressure of his arm has my bottom on fire and now my scalp hurts too. 

He lets go of my hair and places me back on the floor.   
His eyes rake down my body and his large hand twitches by his side. 

“It is astonishing that such a willful heart exists in such a beautifully feminine body.”   
His hand reaches for my waist, but a dam has burst in my chest and I slap his hand away. 

“It is astonishing that an anointed King could behave as deplorably as you have!” 

The King blinks. His eyes look down at the hand I have swatted away.   
I take a step away from him. And another. 

“You have tricked me! The Countess told me about the King of France and the Pope. You are a liar and a murderer as well as a usurper.” My hands are shaking and I keep backing away from him.   
His eyes snap quickly to mine and he takes a step forward. 

“I will never be grateful to you,” I spit “I- I despise you!” Irritatingly, I feel myself begin to cry.  
My back bumps into the table behind me and I watch as the King’s eyes flash to the space behind my right elbow. 

The shears. 

He is fast but my proximity allows me to be faster. Before he reaches me I have a pair of silver shears in my hand. They are weighty and obviously well made.  
I thrust the shears out in front of me, but the King has stepped back from me. 

I push my free hand to my stomach to try to calm my breathing.   
What do I intend to do with this? Kill the King with a pair of hair shears? 

Something dark inside of me whispers softly in my brain. 

You could try. Isn’t that what he did to your father? What he would do to you if it were not for his own greed and safety? 

My hand with the shears begins to shake and I grip the blades tighter. 

“Desirey…” The King runs his hand through his hair before crossing his arms. He softly shakes his head. 

“Do you really think a pair of silver blades will keep me away from you? It would take nothing for me to choke the life out of you with one flick of my wrist.”  
His right hand flexes in front of him as he briefly examines his nails. 

He is not afraid of me.   
I am ridiculously stupid, but I try anyway. 

“There is no pre-contract between us. I command you to retract your statement to the Pope. It is clear your court and England’s common people knew nothing about it. Let me tell the rest of Europe you were mistaken!”   
My breathing is heavy and it is an effort to keep from gasping. 

“You are in no position to command anything from me.” His voice is low. He steps to the side and I move the point of the shears to follow him.   
He walks to the chair he kicked over earlier and rights it, before folding himself down into the seat.   
It makes him look even larger as he overwhelms the form of the chair. 

I too take a step to the side. There is a large porcelain tub not far from me. Perhaps I can get behind it before leaving through the door we came in from. 

“This is a farce!” I spit back at him. “Not a soul will believe I am in love with you when they see us in person. Your plan is poorly thought out and even more poorly executed.” 

I take immense pleasure in the way he frowns at me. His lopsided mouth turning ever more down. 

“You are exceedingly confident for a silly girl who has spent the majority of her life as a minor political player.” His voice is clipped. 

“I have been the Queen since the moment my father left this earth. You know this is true otherwise you would not go through so much trouble to acquire me as if I am a parcel of land.” My arm is beginning to hurt from holding the shears so tightly. 

The King stands and folds his hands together behind his back as he approaches me. I take a few steps back and feel a tiled wall come up to meet me. The door to the room is only about five strides away by my measurement. 

“You are right that I have gone through an excessive amount of effort to secure our marriage. I have been forced to pay dearly for something I should have simply taken long ago.” His steps are coming closer as I slide along the wall, hoping he does not notice how close I am to the door. 

“You could have never-“

“I can do whatever I wish, Desirey. I am the King of this country. You are my subject. Everything you have belongs to me.” 

My heart is beating so fast I am sure he can see the rapid pulse in my neck. 

Why is he being so calm? 

“These minor setbacks with France and the Pope have forced me to wait longer than I had intended. I hope you understand that if it were not for my desire to proceed in a manner consistent with English law and our deference to the Holy Mother Church, you would not dare to be so disrespectful.” 

“What do you care for the law? Have you forgotten the regicide that brought you your crown? Some of us were born into our glory instead of having to steal it like a common London highwayman.” My tone is spiteful and I am proud that my voice does not shake. 

I will not go down quietly. 

It is clear a moment later that the King does not care how loud I am. 

He throws himself at me and grabs my wrist before slamming it up against the wall. The shears in my hand clink against the stone and almost drop, but I manage to hold them. 

My free hand reaches up to push against the King’s chest, but he grabs this one as well and brings it up under his massive paw. I realize he is holding both of my wrists in one hand. I try to stand on my tip toes to lessen the force against my wrists, but Kylo’s strong hips follow and I am pinned to the wall. 

“Get off of me now!” I grunt against his weight. How does he manage to remain so muscular despite all of his hours spent sitting with the Council? 

His face is so close that I feel his breath, rapid and warm. 

“I have a great appreciation for the laws in England. The law that says I am the master of my domain. The law that says my wife will be obedient to my wishes. The law that protects my right to beat that wife with a stick no thicker than my thumb.” 

His eyes become brighter as he utters this last sentence. 

“You are a despicable man! You do not deserve the station to which you have risen!” My fingers are desperately gripping the shears, but the blood in my hands has begun to travel south and I am losing the feeling in them. 

He leans closer to me and he smiles. The lopsided curve of his lips is momentarily distracting. I wonder what it might look like if he smiled at me in adoration instead of domination? 

“Perhaps you would like to hear about the law that allows me to consummate a marriage that has been pre-contracted?”

His free hand reaches for my bodice and he begins to slide his hand inside. I am sweating from the exertion and our argument and this eases the way his hand moves down to scoop my breast. 

“No!”   
His smile grows wider. 

“You are certainly aware of the law stating that no subject may refuse a direct order from their King.”

I tilt my chin up as I try to flex my fingers in order to spread the blades of the shears.  
The King puts his mouth to my neck in a long kiss. His lips suck hungrily upon the skin above my collarbone. 

“Shall I order you into my bed, Desirey? The Cardinal would support this, I am almost certain.”

“I will not-“

His hand moves from cupping my breast to the valley between them. His thumb travels up and down the tight space created by my corset while his fingers splay across the mound of my other breast.   
“Before that I might order you to allow me to press my cock between these exquisite breasts-“

He bites my neck. 

I scream and allow the shears to fall from the fingers I can no longer feel. 

The King kicks them away from me and they skitter across the floor. 

Somehow I have managed to hold back my sobs, but the threat of his debauchery has frightened me into compliance. I push back against the wall and turn my face away from him. 

His hand is still in my gown and his warm breath has surrounded me. I feel as if I am choking on his scent. 

He kisses my neck again before turn me around against the wall. He pushes his groin up against my bottom and I groan against the pain. 

He grinds up against me at a leisurely pace, each time forcing my bruised bottom to meet his firm body and even firmer erection. 

“Please-“ I am begging again. This is my fault. I have pushed him too far. 

“You are so sweet when you beg, Desirey. I find that I am obsessed with the sound.”

He thrusts roughly against me again with a loud grunt, before unexpectedly stepping away. 

I catch myself against the wall and will my legs to keep me from falling. I turn around quickly to find the King breathing heavily against the door. He pulls at his doublet and pushes his hair back around his ears. 

His cheeks are pink.   
There is a glassy look in his eyes when he looks back at me. 

He seemed uncontrollable before.   
But I can see by his lack of composure that I have pushed him toward a dangerous precipice that looms ever closer. 

I swallow and my dry throat screams for water. 

“You will return to your room. Do not attempt to leave it. A message will be sent to you with your instructions for tomorrow.” His voice is flat and he does not meet my eyes. 

As he opens the door, he turns back to me briefly.   
“You will do exactly as you are told. I will not be held responsible for what will happen to you if you do not.”


	13. Grapes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desirey is confined to her room.

I’ve removed all the pins from my hair by the time Anna enters my chamber later that afternoon. She seems surprised to find me there, but does not make mention of it.   
“Shall I call for choices for your dinner gown, my lady?” 

I drag my brush through my hair, but do not meet her gaze.   
“I do not think I will be leaving for dinner tonight. The King and I have had an argument and he told me I would receive a message tomorrow. I take it to mean I will not be allowed out this evening.”

Anna approaches me quickly and pulls the brush from my hands. She looks at me carefully and begins to brush my hair down my back in gentle strokes as I describe the King’s hidden political agenda.   
She is just as shocked as I am and her hand shakes as she sets down my brush. 

“All this time, the King of France has been attempting to reach you? How is it that we heard nothing?” She is frowning.   
“It is not unbelievable that we did not know of it. We heard nothing but the wind in the trees at Hatfield. Anything of national importance came through Duke Hux. We were informed of the King’s father’s death by a page from the court. I was sheltered from this purposely.” 

Anna begins to pace.   
“Did the Countess give you any indication that she would have supported the King of France’s bid for you?” 

I raise an eyebrow at Anna and consider.   
“She did not. If I’m being honest it was hard to pay attention to anything past my own thoughts. I cannot imagine that she would support the King of France in this. King Kylo is almost like a son to her.” 

“But she is French. It would only make sense if her loyalties were with her home nation.” Anna adds quickly.   
I pause and think. Anna has brought up an interesting point.   
“What are you suggesting, Anna? That the Countess is planning on whisking me away to France? I find it hard to believe she is capable of that much intrigue combined with her extensive social schedule…” I smile a little at this. 

Anna comes close to me and grips my hand. There is a bright look in her eyes. 

“What if there is a…a plot to release you from your marriage to the King and instead bring you to France? There you could muster your army and take back your country. If the common people knew you were coming to claim your birthright, I can only imagine that they would rise up in revolt against Kylo.” She is speaking rapidly and a little too loudly. I put my fingers to my lips to remind her of our potential lack of privacy. 

I feel a glimmer of hope ignite in my chest at the thought of being able to take back my country. This is quickly squashed when I think back to what the Countess and the King said about the Pope. 

“You are forgetting that the Pope has ruled against the King of France concerning me. King Kylo’s fine was certainly rerouted to the King of France, but he was as good as commanded to let the issue lie. France would not dare to defy the Pope in Rome.”   
Anna seems a bit crestfallen and I feel my mood plummet again.   
“Besides that, tomorrow we are already ten days away from the wedding. There is no way a plot could be thrown together in such a short amount of time. The King has barely let me leave this room, and following today I’m not sure he will ever allow me to leave it again. I could not flee even if there were foreign powers trying to get to me.” My shoulders slump. 

Anna stands again and gives me a brief nod.   
“I understand, your highness. Forgive me for my rash thoughts.”   
“There is nothing to be forgiven. You are only saying what my heart has always wished for.” I smile back at her. 

“Perhaps we can have a bath drawn in my rooms? Since I am not allowed out, I’m sure the King will take no issue with having amenities brought in?”   
“You’re not leaving, so I cannot think of even one argument from the King.” She bustles to the door to send word to the guard waiting. 

In this, Anna is dead wrong. I’m certain the King will find any reason to argue with me after the day we have had. 

While the thought of a bath has cheered me, I feel a sting of apprehension in my chest.   
The King is clearly angry with me. I know that this is my fault, but he cannot have expected me to meet with the Cardinal and learn about France from the Countess while remaining indifferent. 

The Countess. 

I briefly close my eyes.   
She was only trying to help me. What if the King decides I am no longer allowed to see her? 

Aside from Anna she is my only friend at court and I feel she may be a powerful ally as I face a marriage to the King.   
I must insist on maintaining our contact. I will go to the King tomorrow and apologize for my behavior once again. Maybe he will allow her to carry my train during the wedding in a place of honor. Perhaps this could improve relations between England and France. 

As my brain whirs through the diplomatic tactics that could be taken with France and with King Kylo, Anna is directing several maids into the room with a large porcelain bathing tub. It takes five of them to lift it into the center of my room, while even more follow with steaming buckets of water.   
They are efficient and I make a point to thank each of them in turn for their effort. 

Anna tosses a vial of rose petals into the water and helps me remove my gown. Sinking into the warm water causes me to sign heavily and lean my head against the small towel on the edge of the tub. I’ve Anna to allow me to soak before we begin the somewhat lengthy process of washing my hair.   
A knock sounds at the door and I feel annoyance wash over me. What now?   
Anna returns to the table of my room with a plate of grapes, cold chicken, and bread. 

“From the kitchens for your dinner, your highness.” Anna lays a linen cloth over the food to keep any wayward flies away and then returns to me at the tub. 

She bring her small basket of bathing oils to the tub and begins to pour them in while I rub a cake of lavender soap over my legs. My bottom is still very sore but the warm water has helped to soothe it. I’ve almost forgotten about the pain when Anna begins to use a jug to pour warm water over my head. 

While my hair takes an excessive amount of time, Anna and I have always enjoyed it. It reminds me of when I first went to Hatfield and Anna commanded that I be bathed every other day to keep me well. There were arguments from the senior members of the household about this, but Anna prevailed when she threatened to blame any future illnesses on my lack of cleanliness. I have always been grateful for her care, especially in this area. 

Anna uses a wide toothed comb to go through each section of my hair and treats it carefully with rose oil. She hums a little as she works and I concentrate on trying not to slosh water over the side of the tub. A soft white muslin liner has been laid in the bottom and over the sides of the tub to keeps me from slipping when I stand up. 

With a small smile I pull an edge of the liner into the tub and wet it until it drips. With a quick backward flick, Anna is spattered with bath water.   
She makes an unladylike grunt of surprise and then begins to laugh. She quickly gathers some water and in jug and pours it over me while I sputter in surprise. 

“Anna! You forget your place!” I squeal at her while push water from my eyes with a laugh.   
“You highness forgets that I am the one with the pitcher!” I crane my neck around to see her take a playful lunge at the water with her jug. I use my hand to splash a spray of water back at her. Her gown has dark splotches of water covering it, but her eyes are still merry. 

“Do you remember when I was thirteen and my breasts had just begun to sprout and I was so embarrassed I tried to tie them with a sash while you bathed me?”   
Anna laughs at this memory. “Getting that sash off of you was like wrestling a Russian bear!”   
I laugh too. Anna has always made my heart cheerful. 

“I fear I may have drenched you in water that day. By the end of the bath you were almost as wet as me!”   
I stand and let the water start to drip off of me. 

Anna brings me a linen sheet to wrap around myself before I exit the tub.   
“It was a good excuse for me to bath afterward! You know how stingy they were with the warm water at Hatfield.” 

Anna’s word are overshadowed by a harsh knock at my door. 

“What in the name of –“ Anna does not have time to finish her sentence before the King is crashing through the door.   
I turn and my mouth falls open. What is he doing, coming into my room like this? 

“Your Majesty.” Anna sinks into a curtsy and I know better than to deny him this.   
I awkwardly stick my foot behind me and try not slip.   
I look up. 

The King is staring at me with wide eyes. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it again. I wait a moment before standing back up.   
I breach protocol and say “What can we do for you, Your Majesty? As you can see, I am not in a state consistent with visitation.” 

I cross my arms over my chest, very conscious of the fact that I am soaking wet standing a tub.  
The King’s eyes travel down to my thin arms that are attempting to unsuccessfully shield my breasts. They travel lower to my stomach. Before he can even think about my looking down further, Anna clears her throat. 

The King’s eyes snap back to her. 

“I have waited almost an hour for a report of a clean plate following the Lady’s dinner.” He looks at the table where the food sits.   
I frown. 

“As you can see I was bathing when the food arrived.” 

The King looks back at me, but his eyes are at my waist again. This is making me uncomfortable. 

“You are far thinner than is fashionable. It is my duty to make sure that you are fed and I expect that you will eat when you are told to. Your attitude today has required me to put steps in place for my own assurance that you are following orders.”   
It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. 

“Your Majesty is certainly busy with affairs of state. I should think you do not have the time to burst in upon my bathing ritual in order to determine whether I have tastes a few paltry grapes.” My tone is icy, but so is the rest of my body. The water has started to give me a chill. 

The King crosses to the table and removes the cloth from the plate.   
Plucking a grape from a stem, he puts it to his mouth and chews. His eyes do not leave mine.   
He crosses his arms and shifts so that he is leaning against my table. 

“Please do not allow me to intrude further.” His mouth twitches and he is smirking. 

Anna looks at me desperately. She has already realized the King intends to remain as I am dressed. 

“A gentleman would look away.” I bark. He is ridiculously rude. 

“A King looks where he wants and lets gentlemen be damned.” The King quips back. He selects another grape and sucks if off his fingers suggestively.   
I turn my back to him and wait for Anna to approach me with a towel. 

She works quickly and I am grateful for her ability to understand even when I do not speak. 

In a matter of moments, she trades the towel for a thick robe of white silk and lamb’s wool. She peels the towel and the linen from my legs and lets the robe close around me. I am conscious of the King’s gaze and carefully tie the silk ribbon at my waist. Anna winds a towel around my hair to help it dry though I know it will remain wet until I am able to sit next to the fire in the grate. I clutch the opening of the robe closed across my chest and turn to look at the King. 

The King’s eyes are bright and he is still smirking while he eats my grapes. His hand motions to one of the chairs and I cross over to it.   
I give an exaggerated nod before sitting and reaching for the plate. 

“The chicken and the bread only, Desirey.” His voice is commanding as he moves to sit across from me.   
Anna is still busy cleaning up the mess from my bath and I will her to work slower.   
I furrow my brow, but proceed to eat the chicken, stopping then and now to take a bite of bread. 

“Would you like something to drink?” The King is watchful.   
I nod, “Yes, Your Majesty.” 

He snaps his fingers at Anna and she leaves quickly with my wet linens. I am mournful at her departure, but I am confident she will be back soon.   
I slow down as I chew one of the last bites of chicken, taking extra care to wipe my mouth with a napkin. 

“Your body reminds me of the tales of Aphrodite. It delights me.” He says this simply, without a trace of aggression. The change in tone makes me think he is attempting to woo me.   
“Thank you.” I say primly. 

Where is Anna with my drink?

He leans back in the chair and pushes out his legs. I realize my chairs are too small for him. 

“You do not fit in that chair. I wonder if you are ever comfortable on your furniture.” I give him an appraising look. Enough to remain polite, but not too interested. If he can comment on my appearance, I will comment on his. 

“Almost everything must be made to my measurements, you are correct. My chairs, my throne, my saddles, my hunting bows. My bed is even larger…” He meets my eyes across the table and I cannot help, but blush. 

The feeling of his cock pushing against my buttocks comes back to me.   
He is likely to be just as large down there. I choke a little on the last piece of chicken and look frantically at the door. Hurry up, Anna. 

“And what of my bed? I daresay the queen’s rooms should be prepared by now. Especially if you knew of our impending union far longer than I did.”   
I take a final bite of my bread. My throat is so dry I’m not sure I will be able to swallow.   
I set the last piece of uneaten bread on the plate. 

“They will be completed in due time. Some alterations to the apartments were necessary.” He waves his hand as if brushing aside my concerns. “Besides, I doubt you will need a bed of your own for how often you will be sleeping in mine.” His grin is wolfish again. 

At that moment, Anna returns with a pitcher of wine and another with fresh water. Two goblets are set down on the table beside the pitchers. 

“May I proceed to call the maids to remove the tub, your Majesty?” Anna ventures.   
“Leave it for later. The Lady and I will converse here awhile. You may leave.” His words are so commanding and final. Anna barely looks at me in her rush to leave again. 

The King pours both of us a glass of wine and brings it over to me.   
“Finish your bread.” He says as he takes a long sip from his goblet.   
I eat without speaking and wash it down with half the goblet of wine. I am extremely thirsty. 

“Is there something wrong with the grapes?” I look down at the small bunch and wonder what is on his mind. 

“Nothing is wrong with them. I want to feed them to you.” He is still standing next to me, staring down into my eyes.   
“What?” I am confused. 

“Allow me this small favor, Desirey. After all, you have put me through quite a lot of trouble today.”   
I do not respond. I told myself I would try to make amends so that I might be allowed to see the Countess again.   
I take a deep breath and put my hand out for him to give me a grape. 

“Ah, ah…fold you hands in your lap.” He looks at me without blinking.   
I comply and wait. 

Picking up a grape between his thumb and forefinger, he puts the grape to my mouth.   
“Open your mouth. Do not dare to bite me unless you want me to do it back…” His eyes are dark. 

I open my mouth and try to take the grape as gracefully as possible. It is hard when I am trying not to give him the impression that I am trying to bite him.   
As a result, my lips curl over and under his fingers and I am forced to suck the grape from his grasp.   
I chew quickly and wait. There is no way he will let me skip the rest.   
He proceeds to feed them to me one by one, in the same way as the first. I start to get the rhythm of this process and soon I am eating them faster than he is picking them. 

On the next grape I chance a look up at him. He has leaned against the table once more and he is staring at me. His pupils are large and dark and I detect a slight sheen on his forehead, almost hidden by his long hair.   
I blink and continue to stare as I take the next grape. My lips leave his fingers with a small pop and the King grunts. There is an almost imperceptible shift in his hips.   
“You have no idea what you are doing to me, Desirey.” His voice is tight. 

“What?” I lean away from the table to look up at him.   
He smiles at me and holds out one of the last few grapes. 

“I told you I would find other activities for your mouth…” 

My spine stiffens. He cannot possibly be suggesting…and yet, he must be suggesting…

“You look like a little virginal lamb in that robe. I confess that I am quite enjoying the view.” He smiles at me and I realize that my robe has fallen open just enough for the King to see down to my breasts. I quickly chew the grape and pull the robe closed again. 

“Since you are in an agreeable mood I have a favor to ask.”

The King arches an eyebrow at me.   
“After your behavior today I am disinclined to allow you anything.” 

I lower my chin, but look at up him through my lashes.  
He looks stern, but his eyes drop to my mouth.   
I open it and wait for the next grape.   
The King allows me to take it from his fingers. His eyes do not leave mine as I chew and he reaches for the last one. 

“It is one request.”

I say this quietly and look up at him again. His pupils are still dilated and I sense a shift in his demeanor.   
It takes me another moment to determine that this is desire. 

Dear Lord. 

His fingers are in my mouth again. The grape is still in his fingers when I allow my tongue to reach between them and pull the grape into my mouth.   
I look up at him again through my lashes to see him heave a silent sigh. 

I dab my lips with my napkin and watch as the King drinks down the rest of his goblet of wine. His Adam’s apple moves in time with his swallowing.   
He pours himself another glass and refills mine. 

“Drink. Then you may beg you favor.” 

His eyes are still dark with desire. 

I am playing dangerously close to the sun.


	14. The Gown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desirey views her wedding gown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speaking of gowns:   
> I was in LOVE with the dress Princess Beatrice wore to her wedding recently.   
> Definitely a princess!

I grasp my goblet and drink the rest of my wine. It is refreshing, but I would rather have water.   
I reach for the water pitcher, but the King pushes my hand away. 

“You will drink wine tonight.”

“I am fond of water before bed, Your Majesty.” I counter.   
“Another glass of wine and then you may have your water.” He looks down at me expectantly.

Against my better judgement, I drink down a substantial amount of wine. The fruity taste sticks in my throat and I desire the water even more. 

“Your request?”   
The King goes back to his chair, but not before quickly filling my wine glass again.   
I frown, but try to remain cordial.   
Obviously he wants me to drink, but why? 

“The Countess..” I begin.   
The King snorts.   
I shoot him a disapproving glance, but he continues to stare at me over his goblet. 

“I should like her to carry my train at our…wedding.” I try to keep the distaste out of my voice on the last word. 

The King laughs.   
“Whatever for? The Countess is an inch from the grave and her face shows it.”

“I like her. She is kind and interesting.”

The King rolls his eyes and downs the rest of wine.   
“She will be like the shadow of death behind you. Nothing should take away from you on that day. You will be a sight in your gown.” He stands and refills his goblet.

I try to think carefully as I sip my wine again. 

“Surely if we require her to follow a code of dress this should not be a problem?”

“I do not approve.” The King shoots back. 

“Do you expect me to drag my train all alone?”  
The King is thoughtful. 

“I do not suppose you will be able to, what with your condition.” His eyes sparkled with mirth. 

My heart pounds.   
“You are unkind to me. I have always been thin.” 

“You have been starved.”

“Thanks to whom?” I cut back. 

He purses his lips.   
He seems to be bracing himself for something.   
I grab my goblet and drink down the rest of my wine. My face feels flushed from the drink. 

The King stands and approaches me.  
He pulls my chair roughly away from the table and descends on to one knee with his hands gripping the arms of my chair.   
I keep my hands in my lap. I do not relish being trapped in front of him.   
In this position we are almost at an even eye level, though he is still taller. 

“If I had known the extent of your exile I would have remedied it immediately.” His brown eyes are searching mine and I detect a hint of remorse. 

Oddly enough, I feel like I must reassure him.   
“I have always been thin. Even as a child my mother worried after my weight.” 

“I remember.” He says and his eyes travel down to my waist.   
I look at him curiously. “What do you remember?”

One of his hands has fallen into my lap and he is stroking my wrist with his forefinger. 

“At one of those hunting party picnics. We were using poles to vault ourselves over a creek and you had a furious argument with her about going to eat while the rest of us frolicked. We were commanded to join you so that you would not feel excluded.” 

I do not remember this. It bothers me that he would remember something about me that I cannot recall. But then again, he was older than me and would have a longer memory than I would have had at the time. I sometimes wonder if the events of my youth are overshadowed by the loss of my father.   
I give him a small smile. 

“I am surprised you would venture to play in the creek at the risk of dirtying your doublet and hose.”   
He smiles at my memory of him. 

“My father despaired of my distaste for filth. He said it would not serve me well on the battlefield.” 

He is still smiling until he sees my face. 

The battlefield. 

My father never made it to an all out war with King Kylo’s father. It was all too fast. There was never a battlefield for the King to dirty himself on.   
Yet another reminder of my Father’s slaughter at the hands of the man that I will be bound to in matrimony.   
Perhaps it is some shred of humanity or the wine, but the King does not say anything more on that topic. His finger is still tracing my wrist. 

“You will have any food you want. At any time of the day. I expect you to eat three meals and something during tea.”   
I nod resolutely back at him. He will not hear me complain about having copious amounts of food after what I have endured. 

“And you will eat eggs whenever they are served to you. We have excellent chickens and my doctors have assured me that the properties in their eggs will improve your chances of bearing a healthy child for me.”   
I look at him sharply and he laughs. 

“Do not behave as if you are a Benedictine nun from Elstow Abbey. I must have an heir.”   
His hand is sneaking toward my waist again. 

“WE must have an heir.” I say defiantly.   
He shoots a bored look up at me and continues to measure my waist with his hands. I am grateful for the thick bathing robe. 

“We could give it a try now.” His tone is light, but he does not meet my eyes. 

“Absolutely not.” I bite back. 

He leans back from me and stands. He glances at my empty goblet of wine. I have the feeling he is disappointed. Perhaps he believed the wine would make me more pliant to his proposition. 

“Good night, Desirey.” He murmurs and turns to leave. 

“Wait!” I am standing.   
He turns to look at me and cocks and eyebrow. 

“The Countess. May I have her for my train?” 

The King does not hide his disgust.   
“I will think on it. But you had best decide what I will receive in return.” His eyes are hard and something cold shoots through my stomach as he leaves. 

I am awakened early the next day by the sounds of thunder clapping. The storm appears to be right above the castle and I huddle deeper into my coverlet. Anna is breathing slowly on her pallet beside my bed and I envy her ability to sleep through the loudness outside our window. The fire in the grate has burned down and I decide to drag myself out of bed to coax a flame from the smoldering logs inside. Anna is working very hard at the palace and I will allow her the rest she needs. 

I am careful to keep the soot and ash from my nightgown and wash my hands before sitting down to brush out my hair. Anna usually braids it for me before bed, but we did not have the time last night. After the King left, I sunk into a heavy sleep. 

The King. 

The thunder booms outside as I consider what it will be like to be his wife. I let my mind draft a picture of what we might look like in our robes of estate, sitting on our thrones. This image has always been of me on my own, but I carefully adjust it to include the King. 

He is a handsome man. I will not deny him that.   
I am certain other women find him attractive at our court, even possibly at foreign courts. 

Anna’s words about swaying the King are repeated in my head and then my brain is moving quickly from idea to idea.   
Increased charitable efforts for children and the poor. Cultivating science and art. Education. Farming and harvesting.   
These are all areas I want to learn more about and improve. While I am not aware of the state of things in England, my father taught me that there was always room for improvement and advancement. 

I think back to the grapes and what the King said about giving him something in return for allowing the Countess to be in my procession and my hand with the brush goes still. 

It is obvious that his interest in our physical relationship is not fabricated and he clearly wishes for me to be compliant with this. He demands compliance when we are in public, but seems to revel in meting out punishment.   
I do not have anything more to give aside from my obedience and my body. He has already taken command of any political power I might have held when I was at Hatfield. 

I turn slightly in the mirror and attempt a dazzling smile. I cock my head to the side in what I think might be an attractive angle. I try this again with my head tilted down and look up through my lashes. I have to pinch myself as a reminder that ‘pride’ is among the Seven Deadly Sins. It is clear to me that Anna has been gently encouraging me to use my beauty to influence the King. And while I find this difficult to condone in a woman, especially a queen, there is function in her suggestion. 

Perhaps if I allow the King a few…liberties, he will be more amenable to my wishes. For all of his horrific behavior yesterday, he was kind to me in the evening. 

“You are to see your gown, my lady!” Anna rushes to me from my door. I look up from the chess board that I have been studying, pretending I have an opponent and attempting to find a way to take their Queen. 

Anna’s eyes are bright and she holds a small piece of parchment. She hands it out to me and I read the womanly script of the mistress of the robes. 

‘The Lady Desirey is requested at a fitting for her wedding gown as soon as she is ready’ 

I stand quickly and instruct Anna to help me into a light cloak of cream brocade. It rustles softly around my gown of emerald green satin. The elbow length sleeves are made of delicately stitched cream lace.

We exit my room and follow my guard to rooms designated for the Queen’s Wardrobe. There is a pool of anticipation in my stomach as I think back to the times I spent running between the mannequins that held my mother’s gowns. I was convinced the room went on forever and that I might find a new row of gowns any given day. 

There is no plaque on this door, but the wood on the oak doors has been worn at the handle. The queens of my ancestors have been dressed here for ages. Only a short walk from the Queen’s Apartments, they would have stepped through these doors for fittings and to make orders of new gowns. 

Anna opens the door for me and I enter with the bark of my guard announcing my name. 

There are women everywhere. It seems that the group of attendants that joined me for my measurements have multiplied. Each one curtseys to me, although at different degrees of depth. It is clear that some of them are still uncertain about how much deference to show me. I stop myself from being annoyed. There are those that would not hesitate to take down even a servant at court. 

The mistress of the wardrobe greets me with a low curtsy and I ask her name. 

“Lady Nora Barlett, your ladyship. I have worked the wardrobe for the past five years.”   
I smile at her.   
“Your work thus far has been without even the smallest flaw. I am glad to have you in our service.” 

Lady Nora allows a tight smile before she beckons me further into the room. The line of attendants and Anna follow us. 

Little has changed here over the years. There are rows upon rows of gowns to the furthest stone wall at the back of the room. Each gown is covered in a muslin cloth to protect it from dust and snags, but a few are uncovered. I recognize a few of the gowns I have already worn, but my eyes catch on the gowns that stand next to stools and baskets. These must be the ones being fitted for me as they work through each one. I stop briefly to crane my neck for a glimpse of a startling black gown of heavy velvet. It has been embroidered with small diamonds that glint along the skirt. The bodice has a diamond shaped panel at the center that is encrusted with even more diamonds, though they are both traditional and black. 

“Your ladyship?” Lady Nora prompts and I hear hesitation in her voice.   
“That black gown. When will it be ready?” I am wondering what it might look like at night among the candles in the great hall.   
Lady Nora snaps her fingers behind us. 

“Within a matter of hours, your ladyship.” Three of the wardrobe attendants weave through the mannequins and immediately begin pulling stools up around the gown.   
I smile at them as they pass and turn back to Lady Nora. 

We continue to a door at the side of the room that opens up into a circular alcove.   
Each wall of the alcove contains a window with an alternating space for a mirror. On a sunny day, this room would have a brilliant amount of light and the floor length mirrors would only add to that brilliance.   
The floor is carpeted with thick rugs of red and gold and there are multiple tables, chairs and chests. The room is large, but the space is taken up by the creation in the middle. 

The gown in the middle of the room is like nothing I have ever seen. Even in my wildest imaginings I could have never concocted something of this caliber.   
The gown is massive. There must be layers upon layers of fabric holding the full skirt in its shape. Made of charmeuse and silk, the white is startlingly crisp even with the thunderous weather outside the palace. The mirrors reflect what must be thousands of small diamonds from the waist of the skirt to the hem. The bodice is embroidered with gold and silver thread in tight swirls that contain triangular diamonds at the center. The neckline is low, but edged with tightly ruched white tulle. The wrist length sleeves are made of layered tulle with a smattering of diamonds at the seam lines of the shoulders. 

I step forward and circle around to the back of the gown. I can tell that the attendants and Lady Nora are watching me expectantly. 

The diamonds continue along the back of the skirt. Somehow they are placed in an arrangement so precise that it does not look gaudy or overdone. The train is lengthy and I allow myself only a moment’s despair at the thought of the weight of it behind me. Ribbons crisscross loosely down the back where it will be tied once I have been dressed in it. There is a significant drop between the back and sleeves and I’m sure there will be a glimpse of my shoulder blades. 

It is a gown fit for a princess. Fit for a queen. Fit for me. 

I look back at the excited faces clustered around the doorway. Even the attendants who looked bored at my arrival are craning their necks for a look at me.

“Who has designed this?” I look at Lady Nora.   
“A format for the design came from the King’s archives. The skirt was an imagining of a gown commissioned by your late mother, but it was never completed before her passing.” Lady Nora is eyeing me carefully. 

My heart leaps.  
“The skirt is the same?”

“Not the same fabric, my lady, just the design. The bodice was formulated by the request of the King. He was adamant about the diamonds. The sleeves were necessary for the sake of the rules of the Church.” 

She is still waiting. 

I stop myself from reaching out to one of the sleeves.   
Anna steps forward. “Do you like it, my lady?” Her eyes are shiny. I can tell that she has seen it before now and has been eager for my reaction. 

“It is….far greater than I had hoped.” I smile at Lady Nora and there is a tittering among the attendants who must certainly revere her talent.   
Lady Nora’s lips are still tight, but she thanks me with a small curtsy.   
“Would you ladyship like to try it on?” 

It has taken the better part of half an hour to get me into the dress. I was right about the layers. There are so many of them to maneuver with the added trouble of a thin hoop to keep the gown at the right width. The measurements they took of me early on have been followed to the exact mark and even the thick silk slippers I will wear the day of the wedding are soft and comfortable. 

A corset has been designed specifically for this gown, made of the same materials. It molds around me like a second skin and I wheeze a little as Lady Nora pulls at the strings. 

“It must lay flat, my lady, or the gown might gap.”

I grit my teeth when she proceeds to tighten the ribbons at the back of the gown. These must also be tight. 

When I finally turn on the small pedestal I am standing on, there is a flurry of activity. The attendants are backing up for a better view and Anna is grasping the hand of Lady Nora.

The woman in the multiple mirrors is me.   
I see my face and my hands and my lips.   
But the rest is someone I have only imagined in my dreams. 

I look like a queen. An angel. A goddess. 

I stop breathing for a moment as I shift and watch as a symphony of sparkle glitters across my gown. The bodice is truly stunning. I cannot imagine there are any diamonds left in the royal treasury after all it took to make this. It is something out of a child’s fairy tale.   
And yet, it is here, on me. 

“And the veil?” I call back to Lady Nora. 

She approaches me, but keeps her voice low. While she moves her eyes do not meet mine and I realize she is assessing the gown for even the slightest imperfection. She is a woman of unparalleled skill.   
She reaches in to my neckline and pulls at the tulle although it needs no adjustment. 

“The King specifically ordered there would be no veil.”   
Her voice is low, but this does not stop me from looking at her sharply.   
“Why not?” 

She swallows a little and moves to press against what must be a loose diamond at my waist.   
“He did not say why, your ladyship. I am not in the position to ask.” This time she meets my eyes and there is something akin to fear there, though there has been no movement of the muscles in her face. 

“I will speak to him.” I say and give her a dismissive nod.   
There is obviously a deeper reason for the King’s orders, but a veil is a public symbol of my purity. I will not have that removed. 

“I am in awe of your work, Lady Nora. Please accept my gratitude.” I incline my head and her mouth twitches into a modest smile.   
“It has been an honor, your ladyship.” She snaps her fingers and the women begin to move rapidly, lifting fabric and tucking pins. There are a few changes to be made now that Lady Nora has been able to see the way the fabric lays on my torso. 

A large swath of my train is brushed aside so that she may begin to unlace my dress.   
Lady Nora pulls a little harder than I think necessary and I am about to turn to tell her so when I hear the soft sound of her voice in my ear.   
“Be cautious with the King.” Her whisper is so low it could have been covered by the sound of my gown’s ribbons slipping through their bindings. 

Her eyes meet mine in the mirror directly in front of me and I see that warning has replaced her fear.   
I blink and nod my head with the barest of movements. 

Apparently Lady Nora is one of my allies.


	15. The Queen's Apartments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desirey speaks with an ally and an enemy.

Once I have been replaced into my emerald gown, I ask Lady Nora to take me through the mannequins and view the clothes being prepared for me. She is more than happy to oblige and leads me away while the rest of the wardrobe women take up their duties. I find that I enjoy their soft voices and chatter. They are clearly used to working with one another and enjoy the time they spend in the royal wardrobe. 

Lady Nora begins to lead me down aisle after aisle. I stop occasionally to examine a gown or comment on a piece. Lady Nora tells me what pieces have been changed or put together from old pieces to make something new over the years. She displays a wealth of knowledge about fashion and I wonder what her sources might be, considering there has not been a queen in residence for roughly half of my life. 

She has just finished pointing out a gown of pink damask with white stitching when I interrupt her. We are further down the line of gowns and there is no one in earshot.  
“Your words from earlier.” I prompt. I keep my voice light and lean in as if I am examining the white stitching. 

Lady Nora draws one of the sleeves up and points toward the ribbons that make the sleeve removable without hesitation.  
“I apologize if I spoke out of place, but there are those that would see you replaced.” She is direct with me.  
I try not to stare. 

“Amelia and Grace see to the ribbons on these sleeves, the pressing is unfit for our lady to wear.” Lady Nora calls loudly. I am annoyed by the approach of two rather tall young women. They quickly grip the mannequin from each side and begin to drag it to the front of the aisles.  
I am still annoyed at this intrusion until Lady Nora beckons me two rows further into the room.

“You must be careful. Do not give anyone a reason to suspect you of anything other than being the King’s affectionate bride. Cover everything you do with what you want them to see. This is your mask.” Her voice is still light.  
It takes me a moment to realize that along with her skills with needle and thread, she is also well versed in subterfuge. 

“What are you– that is to say how..?” I am having trouble hiding my confusion. This was not what I was expecting from my mistress of the wardrobe.  
“This is not the place. Please, be careful with the King. Do not give him a reason to rethink his course.” 

I give her a polite smile that she returns. We’ve stopped in front of a black silk gown stitched with rubies and pearls. The waist is accented with a thick red satin ribbon. 

“Anna! Lady Nora has convinced me that this gown is suitable for the rest of the day. I will need your help.”  
Lady Nora nods at me and calls for two more maids to move the mannequin back into the dressing room with my wedding gown.  
Three maids are there with needles and spools of white thread. Lady Nora clears her throat and they bustle politely away. When they have left she moves to the door and locks with a key from her pocket. 

Anna looks at me with irritation.  
“Her ladyship only requires my assistance when-“  
“Anna.” I stop her. “The Lady Nora is here by my wishes. She is….a friend?” This comes out more like a question. 

Lady Nora eyes Anna closely, but nods. “I am concerned for the well being of your mistress. You may trust me.”  
Anna gives her a look that says she believes that remains to be seen. 

“Anna is all I have, Lady Nora. Forgive her if she is cautious.”  
Lady Nora’s shoulders pull back as she stands up even straighter in her already stiff posture.  
“If what you say is true then we must not waste time. Help me into this dress and speak freely. I have no secrets from Anna.” I hold out my arms and wait for them to help me with my gown. 

Lady Nora starts forward immediately.  
“The King can be dangerous. He will be obeyed at all times.”  
I let out an unladylike snort.  
“You do not have to elaborate.” 

Her gaze is focused as she continues to untie my gown. 

“There are some that would have you replaced.” She says this as if she is asking for a glass of wine.  
“Who are they?” I cut in as she moves away with the bodice of my gown. 

“Factions, my lady. It is never clear who sides with whom until the moment presents itself.” 

If there are those that support me, there must obviously those with the desire to get rid of me. I think back to the person who sent me a new gown during my first day back at court. I have not identified this person. I know it was sent by a well-wisher, someone who was glad about my return and knew about it ahead of time.

“My dress. The day I arrived.” I look at her for confirmation.  
She nods at me. Lady Nora is obviously a woman of few words. Perhaps this is her defense against those that listen at keyholes. I dart a glance at the door.  
“Who?” I ask.  
Her face betrays nothing.  
“It was from the archives. In a trunk long forgotten.”  
“But who told you to send it?”  
She stares at me, but does not speak.  
“Not yet.” She says simply. 

Anna is sliding my left arm into the sleeve of the black gown and I feel a chill even through the thick fabric. The silk is lined with brocade and is warmer than it first appeared. 

“When?” I ask.  
She is pulling the ribbons on the gown tightly at my back and I cannot see her face from this angle.  
“Maybe soon. Maybe never.” She says simply.  
I feel an uncomfortable warmth slide up my neck.  
“So I am not to know who my friends are? They mean to lend their support silently and not speak out against the King?” I am starting to feel angry. I am the one walking into the lion’s den and yet those with power to tame the lion stand patiently outside his cave. 

“I will fetch your cloak, my lady.” Lady Nora enunciates as she opens the door.  
I let out a breath. Anna looks pale and looks nervously out the door toward the other working women. 

“Majesty, I am worried that this woman-“  
“Not here, Anna, please!” I stop her. 

Lady Nora returns and helps me put on my cloak. A few of the women of the wardrobe glance our way, but none of them appear suspicious. Their focus is on their task and the beautiful white gown next to me. 

“As I said, you must be careful, your ladyship. At the present there is no need to burden you with any more information. It was only advice to have a care for your person.”  
“Perhaps you believe the burden will be too much for my inexperienced mind.” I cannot stop myself from displaying my irritation. Will this be my life from now on? Being underestimated by my King and by the courtiers who claim to support me? 

Lady Nora’s eyes drop, but there is a change in her voice.  
“The names are unimportant because they do not change anything.” 

“You are wrong. They would change everything for me.” I counter.  
Her eyes lift to mine again and I see her challenge.  
I would think it was impertinent in a servant of the crown if it were not for her next words striking me into silence. 

“I refuse to allow your ladyship to believe in false hope.”  
“You think it is wrong to hope for their support against the King? As you said, he is dangerous.”  
I cock an eyebrow at her.

“Your hope would be misplaced. They will never move against the King, my lady. Even for you.” 

Anna and I leave the wardrobe and begin our travel back to my room. As much as I appreciate the risk Lady Nora has taken by speaking candidly with me, I cannot help but feel even more frustrated.  
There are those that support me. What good is their support if it only exists in whispers behind closed doors? 

My mood is darkening rapidly, much like the sky outside, when we reach the hallway I know to lead to the Queen’s apartments.  
Perhaps it is my foul mood that leads me to rebelliously command our guard to bring me to the apartments. He looks at me carefully before turning to Anna.  
“My orders are to return her to the room she came from. The King was specific.” 

Although I know Anna wishes to do exactly as the King says for both of our sakes, I admire the way she puffs up indignantly in the face of this insignificant man.  
“The rooms she intends to visit will be hers in a matter of days.”  
“The King has commanded-“  
“And now the King’s future Queen has commanded that you take her to her apartments. You might recall that they were previously in her ownership years ago.” Anna lifts her chin and I try not to laugh. I wonder if her dear Thomas has seen this fiery attitude of hers. 

The guard seems conflicted. For a moment I think he might call for another guard’s assistance.  
I take matters into my own hands and turn down the correct hallway. I do not wait to see if the guard will follow, but Anna’s gown is immediately swishing behind me. When I hear the soft clink of the guard’s breastplate I know that he is following too. 

There are only a few more turns to the Queen’s Apartments. I could find my way there in my sleep after having visited my mother every day since I could walk.  
My heart seizes in emotion and excitement as I see two men carrying a large brocade couch into the room. The stain on the wooden legs seems faded, but I ignore this. These items must have been in storage and have lost their shine due to ill attention. 

Anna is close behind me as I enter the chamber through open doors. The receiving chamber of the Queen’s Apartments is just as grand as I remember. The cream paneling with accented gold flake is just as it was when I was a child. The carpeting is thick and a deep red color with an interlocking square design. It looks new and expensive. 

A large ebony fireplace with a massive marble mantle roars to the left of me and I am struck by the amount of heat pouring into the room. One would not need a cloak in this room today, even with the chill rain brings into our stone walls. There are an assortment of chairs being moved haphazardly into different places around the room. 

People are milling everywhere lifting and asking others to help them, while still others are bringing mirrors out of the inner chambers. I move aside as a man carries a gilt vase past me, the height so high that it could easily reach my neck.  
I hear a commanding voice coming from the next set of rooms and I move forward, eager to meet the person in charge of updating my apartments. 

My private receiving chamber is in much the same style as the previous room, though smaller and more intimate. I realize the walls are covered in a red silk that shimmers with silver thread. There are multiple people attempting to pull this down from around the tall window at the left, revealing faded gold paint behind it. They silk coverings must need cleaning. 

My attention is further grabbed by a woman standing in the middle of the room giving loud instructions about a set of French sitting room chairs.  
“If you so much as nick any of the paint it will come directly out of your wages.” Her tone is menacing, but the smooth sweetness of her voice seems to make her words seem like a jest instead of a threat. The two men holding the chairs move carefully away from her. 

I clear my throat and she turns to look at me. 

This woman is astonishingly beautiful. Possibly a year or two older than me and at least three inches taller, she is dressed in a violently red gown. Black lace flutters at her wrists and neckline, which is shockingly low. Her hair is deep auburn in color and a diadem of black pearls sits atop her head. There are even more pearls at her throat and an array of diamonds on her fingers.  
I know for a fact I have not met this woman, but she must be important.

When her deep brown eyes meet mine there is a flash of recognition followed by excitement.  
When she begins to step toward me it is almost like she is gliding across the polished wood floor. She stands a few paces away from me when she makes quick curtsey, her eyes never leaving mine. 

I smile and incline my head. 

“How lovely of you to join us, my lady.” Her voice lilts in a way that makes me wonder if she has an equally clear singing voice. 

“I have been impatient to view the progress taking place in my rooms.” I glance up at the chandelier on the ceiling which is being taken apart and placed into a silk lined box. They must have to remove it completely for cleaning. 

“Of course you are. I admit, we were not expecting your arrival so soon. Forgive the mess.” She gives a flippant shrug at the space around us. 

“The King has been rather coy about the preparations.” I bite the inner corner of my mouth to keep from giving away my distaste at the thought of him. 

“Has he? It is not like his majesty to be misleading.” Her voice lilts again and for a moment I think she is trying not to laugh. Her eyes sparkle at me.  
I swallow before responding. My throat feels dry, but I am not certain about the reason. 

“I’m sure he will not mind my popping in to take stock of what is left to do. I should like to be moved in as soon as possible, even if the rooms are still in reproduction. There is already so much here, I cannot imagine I will want for anything.”  
I arch an eyebrow at her before realizing she has not introduced herself. 

“Forgive me, I did not ask your name.” I take a step towards her. 

She tosses her curls a little and smiles back at me. “Millicent, but please do call me Millie. I cannot abide anything else.”  
I look at her carefully trying to place her in a family familiar to me, but I am at a loss. Before I can ask she is gesturing at the walls where the silk is being removed.  
“The servants have been particularly slow about taking the coverings down, but do not fret, after the master of the chamber gave one of them a good thrashing they’ve all begun to move at a more acceptable pace. You’ll have the old walls back before the day is out.” She puts a hand on her hip and looks sharply at those folding the silk. 

The old walls? 

Millie continues to smile at me expectantly, but I turn to look at Anna. She is standing behind me staring through to the bedchamber beyond. A large bed is visible through the door where there are two laundry women removing vibrant purple curtains from the canopy. My brain takes a moment to catch up with my eyes. This is not the Queen’s bed of estate. The wood is made a heavy oak and carved with large dragons and unicorns. The footboard has a large ‘M’ carved in script and elaborately painted with gold leaf curling around it. 

I take a few steps to the side and find that there are even more women inside folding and packing gowns into trunks. They are spreading cloves and lavender inside as if they are being prepared to leave. 

Speaking of leaving. 

It appears many of the items in my apartments are being taken out rather than being brought in. 

I turn back to Millie. Her eyes have not left me and her full lips curl into her mouth before sliding back into a smile. I scrutinize her carefully. Her figure could only be described as voluptuous. Her waist is thin, but I imagine her corsets are working to give this allusion. Her breasts are fashionably high above her neckline, but there is something….relaxed in her posture. Her hips seem to be tilting a little to the right, a sure sign that she is not standing with her back straight. There is an arch in her back like she is purposely thrusting her breasts forward. There is something...unkempt about her. 

A man carries a portrait draped in a black silk curtain past us. Air swirls through the cloth and I catch a glimpse of what is painted underneath. He is moving toward the door behind me.  
“Stop.” I command and the man halts. His eyes dart between me and Millie. I approach him and pull back the cloth to find a portrait of a man. 

It is a shockingly accurate likeness, down to the curve of his mouth and the soft sweep of his black hair. The veins in the hand gripping his lapel are even perfect. I knew I recognized that hand when the cloth moved. The King. Painted with deeply vivid colors. It looks as if it was completed just yesterday with the shine still present in the paint. 

This portrait is being removed. Which means it was already in this room before today. Could it have been stored here for a time? But why would the King store his portraits when there are certainly many at court who would beg for the honor of having one? 

I turn slowly back to Millie.  
“Your name, madame.” My voice is flat. 

Millie smiles at me and sweeps an arm out dramatically.  
“Why, my lady, I’ve told you I prefer Millie.” Her voice is still sweet. 

“Your title.” I all but bark. There is something cold climbing up my spine. 

“Ah, of course! I believe you have already met my husband, though I cannot believe he would not have mentioned me.” She leans in conspiratorially. “Though he is not such a confident man, not at all like our dear King, much the pity.” She winks at me. 

“Your husband?” I say slowly, confused.

“Yes, yes! The Duke of Grafton. He was here for your presentation?”

Duke Poe. Yes, I know him.  
But then, that means? The custom corset. The Duke's wife and her spending habits. 

I inhale sharply. 

“You are the Duchess of Grafton?” My mouth drops open and I look at her carefully.

What could have been a smile on her face twists in an unpleasant way.  
“One and the same, my lady. Though I am surprised you have not heard of me.” She laughs a little, her eyes do not move from my face. 

“But that would mean-“ My mind is grasping for a way to arrange this information into sense. 

I am turning back to the painting, to the chandelier, to the sliver of bed I can see in the next room.  
I was incorrect. The elaborate ‘M’ is not solely an ‘M’. Curling around the two peaks in the letter is the unmistakable letter ‘K’.  
It is like a curtain has been opened before me.  
M and K.  
Millie and Kylo.  
He has put his mistress in my rooms. This is what is taking so long. They are being prepared for me, but only because they must first remove her.

I have to fight to contain the rage inside of me.  
“You are the King’s Mistress.” I say this as calmly as I can. 

Her mouth slides into a wide grin with not a hint of humility. Her head cocks to the side and I realize the sparkle in her eyes is no longer lovely, but venomous.  
“His Majesty shows me great favor, as you can see.” She gestures at the items around us. I am about to order her to leave, but she continues.  
“And in return I give him any favors he asks for. He can be quite demanding.” Her grin is conspiratorial again, as if this is information we are both privy to. I realize, unfortunately, that I do understand her perfectly. 

“You are leaving.” I state as I see yet another trunk carried past me.  
“For now.” She quips and for the first time I see what must be anger. She puts her hands on her hips. 

“To what place?”  
“Back to the Duke’s manor house at Grafton Regis.” She replies.  
I feel Anna step up behind me. I do not have to look to know that she is glaring at this woman. 

“I will detain your progress no longer. No doubt your husband is eager to see you on your way.” I have an overwhelming desire to be rude, for her to know that I am being rude intentionally. 

I am turning to leave, everything inside me screaming to rip her fine silk coverings from the walls on my way out. 

“I am not to leave until after your wedding. The King commands my presence until that point.”  
I stop. I throw my shoulders back and turn to look at her, but I allow my body to continue to face away. I am desperate to get away from her. 

“I cannot imagine why.” I say, lifting my chin and looking down my nose at her.  
I am waiting for another biting comment when she laughs. A full throated, tinkling sound that echoes around the room. A few servants turn to look at her before quickly returning to their work. 

She takes a few steps forward and my toes curl as I try to keep from backing up.  
“I do not have to imagine why. The King is a man with excessive needs. And what he cannot get from you, I give him willingly, without complaint.” She arches an eyebrow at me and I briefly close my eyes. 

Anna is gripping my elbow, attempting to pull me away.  
I cannot explain the heat that is rising in my cheeks, and the need to defend my place that is stuck in my throat. 

“I am going to be his wife. When I am the Queen you will not dare to speak to me in this way.” I lift my head even higher. 

She shifts her hip to the side and leans against a table near us. She looks at me with feigned pity.  
“I suppose you think he will magically fall in love with you after that? Give you your way whenever you cry? Apologize for his cruelty?” She laughs again and it no longer sounds musical.  
“He will use you for now. And after he has finished with whatever he deems to be his duty, he will come down the hallway to my rooms for what he really wants.”

My stomach rolls. This Duchess is a horror to behold.  
She steps closer to me and even though Anna is pulling me again and there are voices all around us, I do not shrink from her. 

Her voice drops and her tone shifts as if she is addressing a child.  
“Do not fret when you are unable to find him. He will be with me. You are welcome to come looking for him, but remember to knock.”

Her eyes are bright and her smile twists again.  
“Unless you wish to find your husband with his cock down my throat.” 

I turn so quickly that I almost knock into Anna. I can tell she is furious by the wrinkle in her forehead. 

I am moving away so quickly that I am now the one pulling Anna. My guard is at the door, waiting for me as I breeze by him.  
“Take me to the King. Now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been impatiently waiting to write this scene with Millie since I started to plan this story! I'm so glad it is finally out for all of you!


	16. The Treasury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desirey confronts the King.

The King’s apartments are only two hallways away. They are purposely kept close to the Queen’s. I turn swiftly in this direction. The guard is mumbling words of protest as we go. 

The closer we get to the King’s rooms the more my anger builds.   
How dare he have a mistress.  
How dare he flaunt her so blatantly in front of the court. She is another man’s wife!  
He installed her in the Queen’s rooms. MY rooms. 

My steps falter and I stop as another realization hits me. 

Those were my mother’s rooms. My father preserved her things there after her death. I would often go there and run my hands over her books and the bottles of perfumes at her dressing table, knowing that her hands had held them the way they once held me. 

He put her in my mother’s rooms. 

A woman like that. 

Walking and living in a space that once held the only woman my father could bring himself to love, a woman he could not bring himself to replace.   
My hands ball into fists.  
Clearly our marriage will be nothing like the one my mother and father had. 

I am moving forward again and round the final corner.   
Two of the Knights of Ren are standing outside his doors. They turn at my approach.   
“I must see the King.” I call loudly.  
Neither moves.   
“Open the doors, now!” I do not have to try to sound forceful. My anger does this for me.   
Still they do not move.   
I am standing in front of the first one. He looks over my head at the guard following me. 

“What is she doing down here? You know the orders.” His voice is low, but annoyed.   
“I told her she was to go to her room, but she fled.”  
The knight glances down at me.   
“And you were unable to catch her? A little thing like this? Good God, man, you should be relieved of your post immediately.”   
My guard is clearly chastened by the way he looks down. I say a silent prayer of thanks that I was given an obviously dim witted guard today, otherwise I would not have found out the awful truth about what was taking place in my apartments. 

“Open the doors.” I command again.  
“No.” The other knight speaks now, and takes a step toward me. “You are not supposed to be here. Go back to your room. Now.”  
I arch my back to look up at him. Why are all of these knights unnaturally tall? 

“Who do you think you are to tell me what to do? I am the King’s bride, open these doors for me at once.”   
“Go back to your room or we will drag you.” The first knight says. He has stepped behind me, separating me from Anna. 

“I must speak with the King immediately.” And then as an after thought, “He-He will want to see me.” I clasp my hands in front of me with what I hope is a look of humility.   
“The King has not authorized you to enter his apartments without his permission.”  
“I am the Queen!” My attempt at humility is dropped.   
The Knight blinks at me. 

“You will be, but you are not the Queen yet. Aside from that, the King is not here, so you had best return to your rooms before he finds you here without his permission.”  
“Where is he?” I am insistent. “If you do not tell me where he is, I will be sure to inform him of how you thwarted my attempts to bring him an important message.”   
This is a lie, but it appears to work when the knight I am talking to looks at his partner. His partner seems to chew on his lip for a moment but then nods.   
“He is in the treasury. Oliver will escort you.” 

I am not familiar with the treasury at Hampton Court. This was not a place for me to play when I was a child and so I did not see much of it. My father always insisted he would take me inside when I was older. 

The Knight, Oliver, uses his halberd to knock against a wooden door with latticed metalwork. There are multiple locks on the outside, but I can see they have been opened, their loops hang unlatched.   
I can hear no one approach from the other side of the door. My impatience fuels my anger and I step quickly around Oliver and wrench the door open. It is heavy, but the door swings wide just the same. 

As I cross the threshold there is man who has stopped mid step in front of me. His beard is well kept, but fully gray, as is his hair. Even with the slight stoop to his back he is still at least a head taller than me and vaguely familiar. 

I look past him to see the King standing at a small table, parchment and ink pots neatly arranged. He has turned at the noise and I see that I have surprised him. 

The man in front of me clears his throat and I finally recognize him as the man who read the agenda when I was first presented to the council. This must be the King’s secretary.   
“Lady Desirey, we were not expecting you.” He has a monotone voice, but it is polite and not accusatory.   
He bows and I curtsey back politely.   
“I have come to speak to the King about a…private matter.” I try to smile at him.   
He gives the King the briefest of bows. “Then I shall retire immediately if it should please your majesty?”   
The King looks at me carefully, but nods at his secretary. There is an arch in his brow that reveals his curiosity. 

The door shuts behind me.

“Good morning.” He says simply and approaches me.   
This catches me off guard and I almost forget why I am here.   
“I could have sworn I gave order for you to stay in your-“

“When were you going to tell me about the woman living in the Queen’s Apartments?” I interrupt him with a barely concealed shout.   
Kylo stops, his foot still extended to take another step. He opens his mouth, but I do not give him the chance to speak. 

“You put your- your whore in my mother’s rooms! And all the while you tell me to wait patiently to move into a place that is rightfully mine.” I am breathing heavily and my hands fist in my gown.   
His right eyebrow arches even higher. 

“I told you it would be ready in time.” 

“Ready after you had moved her out!” 

He shrugs a shoulder. “She has much to take with her. This will take time. I should think you would prefer to decorate it for yourself, rather than inherit her items, no matter how fine they may be?” 

“She made it very obvious that she has been highly reward for her service to the crown!” I spit. “If you think for one moment that I will allow you near me after you have cavorted yourself with her…” I can feel the warmth in my face at the thought of them together, in the bed carved with their initials. 

There is an unpleasant twisting in my stomach. 

The King purses his large lips and walks to a small table containing a glass pitcher of mead. He picks up a glass and pours the drink for himself. He walks back to the desk he had been working at and leans against it casually. 

“Pray continue.” His face betrays nothing.

I find my voice again.   
“I already knew your behavior behind closed doors was shameful, but to know that you have flaunted this woman in the place that is rightfully mine is proof that you are truly the basest of creatures. And in front of the Duke! It is a miracle he has not challenged you to a duel for her honor after you seduced his wife!” 

The King licks his lips.   
“Here you are again expecting radical behavior from those that would sooner beg MY forgiveness if I were to accidentally step on THEIR foot.” 

“Their allegiance is misplaced.” I spit back at him.   
He huffs a little out of his nose and his mouth twitches. 

“And I thought you and I were making progress.” 

“If you think I will allow you to…to cavort with that woman in front of me then-“

“I will have you know that I have no intention of allowing you to watch what I do with Millie. Unless, of course, you would like to use that opportunity to learn something?” His smile is expectant and grossly interested. 

I take a step back and I do not try to hide my disgust.   
“You cannot expect that I will…that the things you do with her-“

The King has begun to saunter toward me.   
“Ohhh Desirey…” He drawls “How naïve you are.” 

I stand my ground.   
“I am not naïve! That woman made it abundantly clear to me what type whore’s tricks she entertains you with. She is better suited to a brothel than to the English Court!”   
I thrust my hands onto my hips. Could this man really be a King? My father would have never kept a mistress nor would he have allowed it publicly occur in our court!

“A brothel…now there’s an idea…” The King is in front of me now, looking down at me with a small smile.   
He is trying to make me angry. I take a deep breath and try not to lose my nerve.   
“I want her gone. Immediately.” I hold my chin high. 

The King reaches up and runs a finger over my cheek.   
“Your face gets red when you are angry.” 

I purse my lips and turn away from his touch.   
“Remove her. I will not be made a fool of in front of the court.” 

His hand drops and he takes a small step back.   
“Fine. I will have her sent away as soon as possible, if that is what you wish.” 

I have just opened my mouth to continue my argument, but my jaw drops open. I was not expecting his smooth acquiescence.   
He smiles at me again and returns to the mead to refill his glass. 

“I do wish it.” I say, trying to keep the surprise out of my voice. Could it really have been that simple?   
Maybe we are making progress. 

“It is a fortunate thing that our wedding is drawing so very near.” He takes a long swallow of his mead. “If the Duchess is to be removed, then I will need you that much sooner in my bed.” 

“I beg your pardon.” I stare at him. 

The King smirks. “When she is gone there must be someone to fill her place and since you will be my wife, who better than you to sport with?” 

“You cannot imagine that I will behave like that strumpet.” I glare at him. 

“I think you will be surprised by how you might behave when I have my fingers up your-“

“Stop!” I shout. “I will not be your whore! It is bad enough that I must play the part of adoring wife.” 

The King smirks again, swirling his mead in the glass.   
“Perhaps I will find someone else to satisfy me then. Soon you will have your ladies to attend you. I should think there will be one or two lovely enough to taste.” 

I shake my head at him and look away.   
“You dishonor me, sir.” The contempt I feel for this man is mounting by the minute. 

“Believe me, Desirey, I greatly look forward to relieving you of your honor as soon as possible.” He laughs a little at his joke. 

“I despise you!” I shout.   
He continues to laugh. 

“You are unfit to call yourself a king. Lucifer would be a better title!”   
Kylo rolls his wrist in two small circles in a poor imitation of a courtly bow. “Lucifer at your service, my lady.” 

I grit my teeth and let out a small grunt. He is infuriating, lounging there against his desk, unbothered by my frustration and anger.   
His lack of reaction is uncommon for him. I find that this makes me even angrier.

He begins to lift his glass to his lips and suddenly I am moving forward, as fast as I can without running.   
I am right in front of him, and before he has a second to stop me, I wrench the glass from his hand and throw it against the wall with all my might. It shatters upon impact in an impressive spray of glittering shards. 

It takes a moment for my actions to connect with my mind. I look down at my hand, surprised at my rashness. The King has not moved, nor has he spoken to me. I turn slightly to look at the mess I have made. The remains of the mead I threw are dripping down the wall. 

I am shocked at my own behavior. I do not think I have ever done something so rash.   
Instead of feeling better, I feel oddly embarrassed. This is not the behavior of a queen. 

I am about to step away to make a closer inspection of the glass and perhaps find a cloth to pick up the shards, when there is a soft tug at my waist.  
My head turns, and I find the King’s fingers wrapped firmly around the large ribbon at my waist. I slowly tilt my head up to him. 

His indifference has disappeared and I can see that I have made a grave error. 

I am immediately humble. “Your Majesty, I apologize. I would normally never-“   
His fingers slide around the ribbon so that he grasping the front of the red satin. He pulls, hard, spreading his legs to fit me between them. His other hand grabs my wrist tightly. 

“You have much to apologize for today, Desirey.” He looks me in the eye. The relaxed disinterest from earlier has been replaced with unabashed fury. 

“I did not mean to-“

His grip on my wrist tightens.   
“Your disobedience has not improved as quickly as it should have by now. I am displeased, to say the least.” His voice is low, his lips have turned down into a frown.   
“You recall what I told you last night? About your activities today?” 

I nod quickly. 

“Do not feign shyness with me now, after all of your shouting moments ago. Tell me, what did I say?” His thumb has let loose of the red ribbon and is rubbing softly against my flat stomach. 

I swallow.   
“You told me to wait for instructions. I- I did receive a message to go view my wedding gown today.”   
I am concentrating at a spot just behind his shoulder, willing myself to keep my voice from faltering. 

“And? What else?” 

“To stay in my room. Which I did, until I was called away for the fitting.”

His thumb pushes into my belly sharply.   
“And?” He draws this word out impatiently. 

I drop my eyes down to the floor, refusing to look at him. “To do as I am told.”

“Have you done that today, my little kitten?” 

I repress a shudder, but I know he feels the vibration.   
“No…”

“I will list your transgressions, shall I?”   
I do not respond. This is not boding well for me. 

“You did not return to your rooms as you should have after your fitting. Instead you came here, to the treasury, which leads me to understand that you discovered that I was not in my apartments, meaning you were roaming the castle without permission. You entered the room without invitation, interrupting my work with my secretary, without a proper obeisance and without receiving permission to rise. Then you reveal that not only did you wander the castle to seek me out, but you somehow convinced my own guards to bring you here after you spent time in the Queen’s apartments, where I have expressly stated you have no business being in. I can only assume you had an unladylike quarrel with my mistress, which led you to speak to me in a way that would earn better men than you a cell in the tower. And then you rounded that off by smashing one of my fine glasses against the wall like an angry fishwife. All the while insisting that you deserve the respect of a Queen.”

I flinch when his finger reaches under my chin.

“Have I forgotten anything?”   
I shake my head softly. His eyes are blazing, but his voice is as calm as ever. 

“This is quite a list of infractions, Desirey. How do you intend to atone?” 

“Your Majesty, please! I did not-“  
The King presses a finger against my lips. 

“Ah, suddenly my kitten remembers her manners when she is faced with punishment. I am conveniently ‘your majesty’ once your bravery has deserted you.” 

I stare mournfully up at him. 

“Perhaps Hux is on to something, using the iron poker from his hearth. However, I think I will call for the metal studded whips some of the clergy use to cleanse their souls during Lent.”

A studded whip? Lord Jesus help me.   
My eyes are welling up with tears. 

“Please, your majesty, please…” 

He is leaning forward to push himself off of the desk, one hand still hooked around the ribbon at my waist. He begins to drag me with him.   
“I think you are due for a soul cleansing, Desirey. There is a willful streak in you that must be abolished.” 

I am desperate. There is no other word for it. 

“Your Majesty, I was angry! Please let me-“ I pull at his arm, trying to yank him back into the room, away from the door.  
We are almost at there when I intentionally collapse, letting all my weight drop to the floor. 

The King’s grip is strong, but not enough to keep me upright by one elegant ribbon. He loses his grip and I drop to the floor in a heap of black silk.   
He grunts and is forced to bend down on one knee to grab my around my waist. 

Before he can lift me up I reach up to his face, and holding his cheeks in place, kiss him. 

It is forceful and my nose bumps into his painfully, but I do not break contact. I can tell I have surprised him by the way his hands have not moved to lift me.   
I can feel the stubble on his cheeks as I grip his face. He attempts to lean back and away from me, but I move my lips experimentally against his and he stays in place.

And then his lips are moving against mine. His other knee drops to the floor. He leans back on his heels and pulls me up against him in one swift movement.   
My lips are kissing his frantically and probably unskillfully, but I do not stop to worry about it. 

If this is what it takes to distract him from a whip, I will bear it. 

I let my fingers fall from his face to fist into his doublet. Instinctively I pull him closer to me and I feel a low rumble in his chest. 

His lips leave mine. “Desirey…” It sounds as if he is going to tell me to stop, but I push myself up against him and cover his lips with mine. 

He lets my weight push him back until he is off of his heels and is instead sitting flat on the floor with me between his legs. He shifts and settles me into his lap, his hands are running up my spine and down again to my waist. 

I pull back when I feel his tongue pushing against my bottom lip and open my mouth to tell him to stop, but he uses this opening to push his tongue into my mouth. 

And then I can taste the mead on his tongue as it moves insistently against mine. His lips are moving in time with his tongue and I work desperately to keep up with him. This is new to me, but I find that if I follow his movements, I can match him. 

I let my fingers slide up to his shoulders and down to his large arms.   
In turn, one of his hands slides up to hold the back of my neck in place as the other presses hard against the exposed skin of my breast.   
I whimper a little at the pressure, but I continue to kiss him, only letting my lips leave his in order to pull air into my lungs. 

We are both breathing heavily when he removes his hands from me and leans back, both hands on the stone floor supporting his weight and mine as I lean forward against his chest. 

He says nothing as I pant against him, my hands still wrapped around the muscles in his arms. He leans forward a little and runs his fingers through the hair at the back of my neck. I feel a soft tug as he winds it around his fist and lets the strands go again, before promptly repeating the movement. 

It worked. I cannot believe it worked. 

“Kitten.” His voice is still low, but there is a rough edge to it. 

Even though I am straddling his large lap, I still have to look up to meet his eyes. I carefully stare up through my lashes in the way I practiced in the mirror.   
His mouth twitches and I can tell by the small indent in his cheek that he is biting the inside of his mouth. 

“Majesty.” I purr, in what I hope is a submissive tone.   
I blink up at him. 

His Adam’s Apple bobs. 

“You are taxing my self control.” He grunts and his hips buck upward so that I can feel the unmistakable hardness thrusting up from his groin. 

I look away, shyly. 

His fingers begin to play with the ribbon at my waist and for a moment I am afraid that he is going to attempt to consummate our marriage on the floor of the treasury. But when he loosens the ribbon and is slips from around me, he surprises me by tucking it into the pocket of his doublet. 

“I see that you have not been entirely disobedient today. The color of this ribbon pleases me.”   
His eyes are still dark as they flick to the rubies at my neckline, lingering a little longer than necessary at the heave of my breasts. 

I take a deep breath, allowing him a further look at my breasts, ignoring the feeling of shame that accompanies such a blatant display of wantonness. 

“I wanted to wear your colors.” I lie, sweetly. 

His eyes are back on mine, but he reaches up quickly, closing his hand around my throat with just the slightest pressure. 

“Good girl.” He whispers before pulling my mouth back to his.


	17. The Red Ribbon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desirey gets another gift from the King.

I leave the treasury in a daze.   
Anna has long since been required to serve elsewhere in the castle, and two new Knights are waiting outside the door. The King gives one of them lengthy directions about returning me to my rooms, along with a few other things he wants taken care of. 

I am idly running my fingers over my swollen lips, wondering if anyone will be able to tell what I have been doing with the King. The King’s eyes meet mine as the knight who is going to escort me steps away and he reaches out for the hand on my lips. He pulls me too him quickly and kisses me, hard. I am still too wary to pull away and the warmth in my belly from our previous episode convinces me to allow it. 

Within three heartbeats he has let me go. I give him a slight curtsey and turn to follow the Knight, when there is a soft swat at my bottom.   
“I look forward to seeing you at tea, my darling.”   
I turn all the way around and curtsey again. “Yes, Your Majesty.” 

Installed back in my rooms without argument, I sink into my bed.   
I am grateful for the peace and silence that greets me.   
The warm feeling in my belly has not gone away. I feel tired and more than a little confused. Giving in to the King feels a lot like I am allowing him to win. However, I am not sure what other choice I have at this juncture. I refuse to be spanked again, especially with something as awful as a studded whip.   
I grimace at the thought of what my bottom might look like after a treatment of that nature. 

I adjust myself and lay back against my pillows, allowing myself to splay across the bed.   
The warmth in my stomach is warring with the anger and frustration from earlier. I still cannot believe he installed Countess Millie in the Queen’s Apartments. What in God’s name would compel him to make such a public and poignant statement? I wonder if the common people are aware of her, or if this is simply something everyone at court tolerates and does not speak of.   
How any member of the peerage would be willing to accept a mistress in the Queen’s Apartments is beyond me. The fact that the King believes I must silently suffer her presence in the castle until my wedding day is unimaginable. 

And yet, the King’s words about removing her in favor of me makes me feel sick. If she is gone, who will the King take his pleasure with? If she is pliant and willing does that mean he will leave me alone?   
But what about after the wedding? My stomach clenches as I think about my instructions from Cardinal Winterburn about my duties as the King’s wife. The words ‘pliant’ and ‘amenable’ come back to me and I unconsciously grit my teeth. I know that my first duty as a wife is to provide the King with an heir, something that I would have been required to do if I held the throne in my own right. This thought was always so far in the future, I had never thought much about the logistics. 

I swallow and my stomach flips again. The King is obviously a man of experience when it comes to women. Perhaps the begetting of a child with him will not be so terrible due to all of his…practice.   
And if Millie is any indication, he must appreciate a willing companion. If I am unwilling and disinterested, perhaps that will deter him from seeking my company.   
I am reconciling this idea in my brain when Anna returns to my rooms. 

She is flushed and breathless in a way that tells me she has hurried to my presence.   
“Well,” she prompts quickly. “I am required back with the women of the wardrobe, but I wanted to check on you.”   
I frown. “I feel as if you are never here and yet you are my maid. Who is keeping you so busy?”   
Anna seats herself in one of my chairs and runs a handkerchief across her brow. “The Master of the Household has given me leave to attend you at the times of the day that the King believes you will need me. He has insisted that I am to work for my place in the King’s household until yours has been established.” She grimaces in a way that tells me that the work is not light. 

“This is another attempt to slight me. You are in my employ and yet you must run when his manservant beckons?”   
Anna shrugs in response, but continues to look at me expectantly. I decide to be honest and explain what occurred in the treasury.   
Her eyes are wide and there is color in her cheeks. I cannot tell if she is shocked or pleased. Her hands are clenched tight in her lap when she speaks. “I have urged your highness to be careful.”   
“I have been…” I break in, but Anna continues to speak.   
“I agree that finding that woman in your mother’s chamber was a shock, but you have narrowly escaped his wrath. You remember what Lady Nora said…”   
I think this over and eventually nod. “She has been kind to me at what I expect is a certain measure of personal risk.”  
Anna nods vigorously and rises. “I must get back to the wardrobe. Lady Nora has instructed me to have a care for your stockings and slippers.”   
I dismiss her with a small nod and roll over onto my stomach, hoping to help settle the nerves I feel there. There is only a limited amount of time before I must meet the King for tea. 

I arrive for tea promptly and am ushered quickly into the King’s dining chamber. I curtsey to him and wait for him to ask me to rise. There is a soft clink ahead of me as the King places his teacup into the saucer.   
“Rise and join me, Desirey.” The King’s voice is warm and I approach my seat across from him. A few letters sit open in front of him along with a half eaten piece of toast.  
I reach for my pot of tea and proceed to pour myself a cup. A tray of elaborately decorated cherry tarts sits in front of me and I reach for one. Taking a bite, my nose dips into the cream causing me to give a light jolt and drop the tart. It thumps onto my china plate and I reach quickly for my napkin. 

“My, my, you are easily startled.” The King looked across at me while simultaneously returning a letter to his pile.   
I frown behind the cloth napkin in an effort to bite back a retort. After this morning I am not in a hurry to remind the King of my obstinate behavior. I remain silent.   
“Perhaps you are nervous?” He arches an eyebrow at me, clearly expecting a response.   
“No more nervous than usual, your majesty.” I raise my left shoulder in a slight shrug. This is the truth. The unease I feel with the King is my constant companion. 

I reach for my tart again, but I feel his eyes on me. I carefully bring the tart to my lips and take a large bite. As I chew I take a moment to look around the room, hoping the King will look elsewhere.   
“You did not tell me what you thought of your wedding gown during your…visit this morning.” He leans back in his chair, eyes locked with mine.   
He is being abnormally pleasant and I am immediately on guard but take care not to show it. 

“It is lovely. There can be no doubt it is fit for a queen.” I say with a small smile, continuing to look at him.   
He continues to stare, waiting.   
I blink and then add “Thank you, your majesty.” I let my eyes drop down to my lap. It sounds hollow even to me and I curse my poor ability to act.   
“You will be radiant in it, I have no doubt.” He smiles at me and his mouth twitches to the side.   
I attempt a smile back at him and look down at his letters. 

“Who writes to you today?” I say and reach for my teacup.   
His eyes break away from mine down to the stack in front of him.  
“Merchants, clergy, my ambassador to Spain” He lists this names almost boredly.  
“They all require something. My secretary fields most of the mundane requests, but I give the final say on matters of state and commerce.”   
I nod at him. “And what news is there from Spain?” 

He slides a piece of parchment from the pile and holds it out toward me. I rise from my seat, surprised that he will allow me to read his correspondence.   
The parchment is heavy in my hands as I read through the information outlined by the ambassador. He writes about a failed harvest due to heavy rains and inquires as to whether the English would be willing to sell grain to Spain to make up for the shortage. There is a short mention of the King of Spain’s granddaughter coming of age and preparing to meet suitors as well as information concerning a tax on embroidered cloth. 

“Will you send the grain?” I ask, tilting the letter toward him and meeting his eyes.   
“I will, but not at the discounted price the King of Spain will expect. Grain departing from English shores must be paid for in a way that benefits the Crown’s tax as well as the farmers. While I am inclined to sympathize with the results of a poor harvest, I will not rob my subjects of what they are due.”   
I nod at him as he takes the letter back. He lays it haphazardly on top of the others and I am unable to restrain myself from reaching out to straighten the letters. The cut edges line up neatly once more and I move to take a step back toward my seat, but the King catches my hand. 

“There is a gift for you in my chamber, when you’ve finished your tea.” I look down at him. While his hand is gentle as it holds mine, his eyes have retained their coldness.   
“Another gift?” I try to smile curiously.   
He brings my fingers to his lips in a soft kiss. “Of course, Desirey. I can generous when I wish to be.” 

I swallow quickly to hide my small intake of breath. The unspoken counter statement of what he can take away too hangs in the air. 

I return to my seat and finish my tea and tart. There is a small tray of grapes that I indulge in as the king slices open another packet of letters. This one appears to include multiple pages and I wait impatiently as he reads through each one. I cannot help but hope that I will someday have my own letters to read instead of sitting here with him in silence.   
Eventually, these letters join the others in the pile and the King stands. 

“Come along, my darling. I am sure you are impatient to receive your gift.”   
I rise along with him and take the arm he proffers to me. My hand slides through the crook of his elbow and rests against his thick wrist as he leads me through his apartments.   
It takes effort to hide my dismay at the realization that we have arrived in the King’s own bedchamber. Having been in this room the day the King ripped my gown to pieces, I am struck again by how different it is from the time my father was in residence. The walls are paneled with a dark cherry wood draped with black velvet. Art showing landscape and hunting themes line the walls between the golden candle sconces. The King’s bed takes up large amount of space at the back of the room. The heavy wood carved with the King’s crest and the lions of his seal. The curtains of the bed are heavily embroidered cloth of gold and I can tell by the height of the mattress that it is thickly filled. 

My eyes alight on a thin leather case on the King’s bed. My jaw clenches as I imagine what could be inside.   
The studded whip? A sword? Something worse?   
The King pulls me toward the bed and I feel a line of sweat slide down my back. As we approach I realize the case is only thin in depth, but not width. Roughly the width of a wardrobe trunk, it is loosely tied with a think ivory ribbon. 

I let a breath ease out of my lungs. Not what I would expect the King to keep his torture devices inside, but I am still on guard.   
He shuffles to the side after leading me directly in front of the case.   
“Go ahead.” He urges.   
I glance at him briefly before reaching for the ribbon. It slips from the around the leather and I let it pool off to the side of the case.   
There is a flap on the left side of the case and as I pull it back I find that it is lined with black silk. My curiosity increasing, I pull the second flap and the case lays open before me. 

Sitting with stark contrast to the black silk, rests a corset made of the purest white brocade. The boning lays in thin strips around the bodice, while thin matching ribbons hang at the bottom hem tied in loose bows. The line of flat pearl bottoms down the center tells me that the wearer will have their bosom lifted tightly to a fashionable height. The neckline is lined with a white satin ribbon. 

I take a step back, my eyes flashing up to meet his.   
“This is…a gift?” I am confused.  
The King steps closer to me. “I told you there would be custom corsets made for you.” His mouth twists into a soft smirk. This is not the pleasant smile we shared over our tea. 

“Yes…of course.” I say looking back into the case.  
“I would not want you to feel left out.” His hands go the buckle of his belt, his court sword clinking softly as he removes it and his belt. My stomach drops as he refers to what has been ordered previously for his mistress. 

“The Mistress of the Wardrobe assured me that my garments are ever closer to being ready. There will be no shortage of clothing for me. Thanks to your majesty, of course.” I try to remain polite, pointing out the practicality of the piece in front of me, instead of succumbing to whatever reaction the King is hoping for. 

The King’s belt clinks again as he tosses it lightly onto his bed. I am distracted by the sound. The King uses this as a distraction to step up behind me, leaning over my shoulder to look at the corset.   
“For you to wear under your wedding dress.” He hums in my ear.   
“Thank you.” I say flatly. I reach out to close one of the flaps, but the King grabs my wrist.   
“I should like to see how it looks.”  
I let my wrist fall and crane my neck out of the way in order to offer him a better view. There is annoyed huff behind me as the King pulls me around to face him. 

“How it looks on you, Desirey.” His dark eyes are flashing in annoyance and I swallow quickly.   
“Majesty, it is bad luck for you to see the bride before the wedding and-“  
The King looms over me and I take a step back.   
“I have been forced to wait long enough for you, Desirey. One look at you in your underthings will not damn us to a marriage of ill fortune.”   
He turns toward the south wall and gestures at dark red dressing screen.  
“I shall even afford you the privacy you so desperately cleave to.” He attempts to hide his annoyance, but I hear his distaste weave its way into his words. 

I look desperately at the screen and then back at the King.   
“But, I will not be able to undress without assistance-“ I am immediately sorry as the words leave my lips. He will obviously be all too delighted to help me.   
To my surprise the King stomps loudly on the stone floor and a door near the dressing screen opens to reveal Lady Nora. Her curtsey is deep and formal.   
“Lady Desirey is in need of your assistance and discretion, Lady Nora.” Kylo says behind me.   
Lady Nora stands up, her spine so straight she could stand flush with the wall.   
“Of course, your majesty. I am happy to assist her ladyship.” Her voice betrays nothing.

Her prompt arrival leads me to believe that the King had planned for her to be here at this time. For a moment I am filled with a feeling of dread. The conversation that occurred in the wardrobe must have been a set up. Lady Nora is in the employ of the King and I spoke freely with her of my unhappiness. How could she be anything other than one of his spies?  
I feel my hands start to shake, dreading what is in store for me.   
Lady Nora walks quickly to the bed, bobs a curtsey at me, and pulls the leather case toward her. She lifts the corset out from the bed of silk and waits for me to step forward.   
I take a step toward her, glaring at her once I am facing away from the King. She keeps her eyes straight ahead of her as I pass, making my way slowly around the back of the screen.

She steps quickly behind me and begins to pull at the laces at the back of my gown. I let my arms hang limply, refusing to aid in the removal of my clothing.   
When the sleeve of my gown is lose I pull it off without waiting for Lady Nora. She steps in front of me with her hand outstretched, but I purposely drop it on the floor, forcing her to bend and grab it.   
She says nothing as she stands, but her eyes meet mine. The tension in her face is obvious. There is a crease in her forehead from the pained expression on her face, and I immediately see my error. I open my mouth to apologize for assuming the worst of her, but she quickly puts a finger to her lips and points to the screen.   
Of course. The King is on the other side, waiting. 

I give her a brief nod and allow her to help me remove everything down to my short shift. With practiced expertise, Lady Nora lines the corset up around me, hooking it in the back.   
The King was right about the custom fit. None of my undergarments have ever fit me this well. Lady Nora steps away from me and I wait for her to begin tightening my stays.   
I feel one of her fingers inside the back boning of the corset, as if she is searching for something. She steps in front of me, her forehead still wrinkled in concentration. 

“Sire?” She prompts the King and I hear a soft shuffle that can only be the King turning to face her.   
“Madame.” He replies. I shift from foot to foot, wishing I was anywhere else. Anna would not leave me undressed like this for long. 

“There must be a mistake. The laces are not in the corset. If you would allow me to go back to the wardrobe, I could choose-“  
The King interrupts her. “There will be no need, Lady Nora. You may leave us.”  
“Of course, your majesty.” She replies curtly before appearing around the corner of the screen.   
She looks me directly in the eye, conveying something I can only assume to understand through our inability to speak.   
Confusion and concern. 

She checks once more for the laces that should be strung between the eyelets at my back, but finding none, nods at me and leaves the room.   
I continue to stand behind the screen and allow myself a deep breath. Perhaps this will be quick. The air on my legs is abnormally cool despite the warmth I feel in my cheeks. I tug at the hem of my shift knowing that while the King will have a clear view of my legs, my thighs and sex are covered. 

“Desirey.” The King calls.   
I take a step from behind the screen, one hand braced at the front of the corset to keep it from falling open over my breasts.   
“Forgive me, your majesty, but the laces are missing.” I repeat Lady Nora’s words and I lift my other hand to push the fabric tighter to my chest.   
The King looks at me from where he leans, one shoulder and his hip resting against the curtained post of his bed. 

My eye catches on the white ribbon that held the case closed. It occurs to me that a servant may have incorrectly packed the case, using the laces as an adornment for the leather.   
“That white ribbon could be used in place of the laces…” My voice trails off.   
The King is staring with barely concealed pleasure at the space I am desperately trying to cover with my hands. His gaze drops to the hem of my shift, and I press my thighs together, hoping he cannot see through the thin fabric. 

“Come here, kitten.” He says softly, but without looking me in the eye.   
I do not move. His eyes are cold and I feel a small tremble start in my knees.   
What can he possibly be thinking?

“Come. Now.” This is a command. His soft voice from a moment ago has disappeared.   
I take a deep breath and approach him, the cold stone of the floor stinging my feet. If he knew he was going to ask this of me, he could have at least had a fire built in the grate.   
I stop I front of him and look up, my hand sliding the cover the top of my breasts from his greedy eyes. 

“Surely without the lacing you cannot expect me to –“   
“Ah, but we do have the lacing, Desirey.” The King smirks down at me, tracing his pointer finger up the bare swell of my arm.   
I take a step toward the bed, assuming he will utilize the white ribbon.   
“Someone must have incorrectly packed the case. If we call for Lady Nora I’m sure she could sort me out.” Attempting to remain matter of fact while I am in a state of undress is becoming more of a challenge. 

The King reaches for my arm and pulls me back to him. I struggle to cover myself, but his hand holds my wrist tightly.   
Reaching into his doublet, he pulls out the red ribbon he took from my gown earlier in the treasury. It slides noiselessly through the fabric of his doublet.   
“There are no need for other laces. You shall wear this.” He turns me around and I dutifully brace my hands against the post of his bed.   
He says nothing as he rolls the red ribbon through his fingers and begins to lace it through the eyelets. The other end of the ribbons tickles the back of my legs as I squirm. Absentmindedly, I reach down to pull my shift lower over my bottom, but the King slaps my hand away. 

“Keep your hands on the post unless you would like me to chain them there.”   
This is humiliating, but I bite back my protests.   
It will be worse for me if I complain.   
The King works with slow precision as he pulls the laces through the eyelets. Though his fingers are large, they work in a way that tells me this is not the first time he has re-laced a woman.   
He begins to tighten the laces and I feel the boning shift to mold around my torso, the satin lining slipping over me. I feel the King tie off the ribbon and I relax my grip on the bed post once I am tightly laced inside. 

Without warning the King jerks hard on the ribbon and I stumble back into his chest. His arm goes quickly around my waist as he pulls me toward a large mirror near one of the windows. Standing behind me, he pushes my shoulder so that I am able to see myself in the mirror.   
The corset truly is beautifully made. It envelopes my torso just as perfectly as my wedding gown does. The white brocade is so crisply white that it makes my white shift look dull in comparison. This has certainly cost more than the corset commissioned for Millie. 

The King turns me to the side and I am able to see the red ribbon laced perfectly by the King’s hands. The red is a striking contrast to the white, almost gaudy in comparison.   
“Lady Nora will need to find the laces before the wedding.” I say, ignoring the way the King looms behind me, eyes flashing over my body.   
“You will wear the red ribbon.” The King says briskly, one hand running down the flat expanse of my stomach.   
“A bride wears white.” I bite back, annoyed.   
“You will wear red.” I see his jaw tighten in the mirror. 

“White signifies my chastity. Would you have the maids who dress me question this?” I try to keep my voice even, calling forth the King’s preference for ceremony.   
“The red will signify the end of your chastity, the way the proof of it will stain my white sheets when I take you to bed…”His free hand runs slowly up my thigh, dragging my shift with it.   
I pull away from him, but he holds me in place, sliding the hand that was on my thigh around to my left buttock. He squeezes it and I hold back a yelp from the lingering pain leftover from his spanking. 

“The maids will talk, then the whole court will gossip and my virginity will be in question.” I do not attempt to disguise my irritation.  
“Lady Nora will be the only one to dress you from now on. I am assured of her loyalty and silence.” The King counters and brings his lips to the crook of my neck.  
I feel a soft pulsing in my stomach as the King’s lips find the same spot he kissed that night on the balcony and my eyes fall closed briefly. There is something about that spot that is sinfully sweet and- 

“Please, this is not the time.” I recover myself, tugging away from his arms.   
The King lets his arms fall, but he continues to stare at me in the mirror as I attempt to pull the neckline of my shift up over my breasts while trying to keep my nether region similarly covered.   
The King chuckles a little before retreating to sit on the edge of his bed. 

“You might as well start to get comfortable being naked in front of me, kitten. I will not be denied the pleasure of your figure any longer.”   
His dark eyes continue to study my legs.   
“As you said, the wedding is fast approaching. I should be allowed my dignity until then.” I snap, tired of playing the obedient bride. 

“You have forfeited that right to your dignity, Desirey.” The King is smiling at me again, but there is a shift in his demeanor.   
“Pardon me?” I say as I inch backward toward the dressing screen, desperate for my gown.   
“I have made arrangements for you to be dressed in here each day, so that I may keep a closer watch on your movements.” His brown eyes flash up to mine and he laughs again at my confusion. 

“What?” I continue to step backward and the King rises as he begins to follow my steps.   
“Silly girl. You did not think after your disobedient marauding this morning that I would allow you to remain out of my sight longer than necessary, did you? Your pretty face might have distracted me from my irritation earlier, but I recall asking you how you might atone for your actions. Since you offered no suggestions, I have determined one for you.” 

His eyes are predatory and I hurry behind the screen, pulling my black gown in front of my body.   
“It is not proper for us to be alone before our wedding.” I say dumbly. We are already alone and have been quite often since I came to court.   
The King’s tall frame looks around the side of the screen and smiles unpleasantly at me. 

“It is also improper for a bride to throw herself so wantonly into the lap of her betrothed before her wedding, but you must see that I make allowances for my bride’s behavior.” He raises a large shoulder in a shrug.   
I grasp at the black silk and try desperately not to meet his eyes.   
“Please…”  
The King laughs again and steps all the way around the screen. He approaches me quickly before tugging me around to show him my back. His fingers begin to unlace the red ribbon he so recently tied. 

There is a beat of silence before I feel his breath tickle my ear.   
“I will admit our time in the treasury far exceeded my expectations, but you’ll have to try harder in the future if you wish to sway me.”  
I swallow and attempt to save face in response to the King’s clear appraisal of my actions from earlier. 

“I would not dare to try to-“   
The King lets out a low chuckle.   
“Please, Desirey, do not try to play me for the fool. Do you think you are the first woman to try to use her loveliness against me? While others may try to gain my favor by willingly inviting me to take part in the delights of their body, I take comfort in knowing that I may take whatever I wish from you."

I shiver a little at this and the King uses the opportunity to pull me back against him. 

“I do not think I need to remind you about how much I enjoy it when you resist.”


	18. A Wager

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The King and Desirey make a wager.

The process of getting back into my gown takes considerable time. The King does not speak to me as he helps me slide my sleeves up my arms and ties me into my first corset.   
The white corset for my wedding is laid carefully back into the leather case. The King watches as I close the flaps. I can tell he is watching for some sign of reluctance from me, but I do not allow him the satisfaction.   
I feel trapped within my own mind. The part of me that longs to scream curses at him and beat him with my fists is warring with my counterpart that begs me to be docile and compliant. Is it so bad to give in when the alternative only fuels his anger and desire? 

I remain in silent contemplation until the King reaches for my hand and leads me back to his dining chamber.   
The tea services have been cleared away, but the King’s letters remain.   
“I have more work to do before the evening. You are welcome to remain with me or return to your room.” He lifts the pile of letters and taps them against his palm.   
“I will retire, thank you.” I say more calmly than I feel. I will not spend more time than is required with him, even at the risk of the boredom that waits for me in my own room.   
The King gives me a brief nod and I curtsey before moving toward the door.   
“Do not forget to arrive here before dinner. You will need to change.” I hear the command in his voice, daring me to argue against my new schedule.   
“I will return before dinner.” I reply before knocking at the door for the King’s knights to let me out. 

I stare idly out my window, chewing on the skin around my thumb when there is a knock at the door to my chamber. Anna has still not returned and I so I call out for the visitor to enter.   
A page enters, giving me a bow and sets a letter on my table. “For you, Miss.” He says with a heavy Scottish accent. This page cannot be more than eleven years old. Although he is young, he steps confidently back from the table and waits.   
I go eagerly to the table and find that the letter contains the wax seal of the Countess of Anjou. Her handwriting is filled with an excessive amount of flourishes, but this does not surprise me. A woman like her would put extravagance into every piece of her life.   
My eyes devour her words quickly.

‘My dearest Majesty,   
I am eager to see you at dinner this evening and heartily hope that you will allow me a tour of the King’s gardens. Please let me know if I shall bring my cloak. Perhaps the rain will have moved on by then.   
Yours eternally,   
Alexandra’ 

I smile at the way she closed her letter. I look up at the page who looks past my ear in the way taught to servants.   
“Please tell her grace that she may expect me to join her in the gardens after dinner.”  
The page’s neutral smile turns down at the corners.   
“Surely your ladyship will wish to write this to the Countess? I am required to deliver only written correspondence.”   
He looks briefly at my table where my set of chess pieces still sits. 

I bite my lip before standing. I speak to him quietly, remembering that he is still at the threshold of childhood.   
“There seems to have been a mistake. My writing supplies have not arrived yet and so I have been left with no way to write back to the Countess. It is a…shame.” I lie, but give him an embarrassed smile.   
The page looks up at me, but quickly averts his eyes.   
I take a chance. 

“If only there was a way for someone to produce paper and ink for me. I would be glad to reward them for their service. The King is so busy, I should hate to bother him with such a trivial thing as writing supplies.” I allow a little bit of a whine into my voice, hoping that the boy will take the bait.   
The boy stands up straighter. “I could bring those things to you, miss. There are store rooms close by and I am quick about my business.” His eyes make contact with mine and I can tell he is eager to please.  
“Could you? Why, thank you very much.”   
The boy practically bounces toward the door, but I call out for him to stop.   
“I am sometimes clumsy with my quill. Please, could you bring some extra parchment in the event that my pen drips? I should hate to have to bother you to make another trip.”   
“Yes, miss. I’d be glad to, Miss.” He bows quickly to me before leaving the room.

I bite my lip to keep from smiling as he leaves, but this does not stop me from feeling a little guilty. This poor lad is so obviously awed by the trappings of court life, eager to please and be recognized for his service. I wonder if he has any family or if he is another orphaned child brought into service of the crown.   
There is a quick knock moments later before the boy returns to me carrying a small wooden box. He sets it quickly on the table and steps away from me.   
“It is all there for you, Miss. The parchment and ink and extra parchment besides.” He looks at me proudly.   
“How lovely. You will wait while I compose my letter?” I ask him. He nods and steps back toward the door, hands clasped in front of him. He bounces a little on the balls of his feet, clearly pleased with himself. 

I settle myself at the table hoping that there are no further interruptions as I write back to the Countess. The page boy is clearly unaware that my lack of writing materials is by the King’s command, not a mistake in the household, but I do not wish to make him aware of that.   
I arrange the writing materials around me and dip quickly into the ink before carefully penning my reply. 

‘My dear Countess,  
You may expect to take the evening air with me following dinner. I must ask the King’s permission, but he is likely to grant it if the weather turns.   
I beg you to show favor to the page carrying this letter with a coin and to burn this paper after you read it.   
Yours,  
DL’

My heart beats rapidly as I allow the ink to dry and fold it carefully. Wrapping a bit of twine around the flaps, I hold it out to the page.   
He bows to me before taking it. A notion strikes me before he reaches the door.   
“Your name, young sir?” I ask politely.   
He glances at me quickly before dropping his eyes. “Connor Flanagan, Miss.”   
“I am thankful for your service, Mister Flanagan.” I flash a smile at him. “I value my privacy and I would be grateful if you did not mention how you helped me today.”   
Connor’s face has turned a mottled shade of red. He is obviously not used to being spoken to by the nobles at court.   
“Of course, Miss.” He bows out of my door. 

I feel a twinge of guilt having lied to this young boy, but the draw of having paper and pen was too great. Although there is nobody for me to write to now, there might be in the future and I should like to be prepared.   
I carefully put the writing materials back into the small box and look around my room for a place to hide it. I decide to stuff it between the wall and my bed. While this is not ideal, there is nowhere private enough in this room to hide anything. Anna is not the only one allowed in here and I am sure there are others that enter to clean and lay the wood for the fire. 

Looking outside I realize the rain has let up and the sun has started to break through the clouds. My heart leaps at the thought of taking the Countess up on her invitation for a walk later. I long for something to do to occupy my mind as I wait to be dressed for dinner. If only the King would allow me some literature or needlework, perhaps my time alone would not seem so daunting.   
I could ask him for some of these things before dinner, I suppose.   
But what will he ask for in return? The back of my mind whispers to me.   
I heave a sigh and return to my chess board. 

The time to dress for dinner arrives and I am led begrudgingly to the King’s chambers.   
Anna has not returned and so I arrive there alone. A guard lets me into the dining chamber.   
The King is not here so I continue deeper into his rooms until I arrive at his bedchamber. I can only assume this is where he wishes me to change. 

I knock quickly at the door.   
“Enter.” The King’s deep voice calls. I push the door open and direct a short curtsey toward him. He is seated in a large velvet chair near the fireplace drinking from a large gold goblet. I notice, with some annoyance, that he is already dressed for dinner, his court jacket hanging stiffly off the back of his chair. 

The King smiles at me and beckons me forward.   
“It will be nice to have this time together in private before we are on display each night.” The buoyant tone in his voice tells me that this is his authentic opinion.   
“Yes, your majesty.” I agree mildly, stepping in front of him.   
“When you are installed in your apartments, I will join you there and escort you to dinner.” He sips from his goblet.   
“Will your knights alert me that you are on your way?” I ask, wondering how often I might be subjected to ‘surprise’ visits from him.   
“They will not need to,” he smirks “When the door adjoining our chambers is conveniently placed in here.” 

My eyes snap toward the door near the dressing screen. An adjoining door?   
The King must see my confusion.   
“There is a passage between our rooms that link mine to yours. In the past King’s used it to visit their wives privately, without the scrutiny of the court.”   
I frown. How did I miss this fact when my parent shared these rooms?   
“Where is the door?” I ask, curiosity clouding the twinge of foreboding I feel at the knowledge that the King will be able to get to me even when I am sleeping.   
The King steps close to me and follows my gaze to the obvious door through which Lady Nora arrived earlier. 

“Hidden.”   
“I gather that.” I huff, looking down the paneled wall near the door. I look for something that might give away the outline of the secret door, but I see none. Stepping closer to the wall, I begin to run my fingers along the panels, feeling for a ridge.   
The King follows a few steps behind me. I turn around and look up at him, waiting for him to give the location away.   
His hands are clasped behind his back and his eyes are bright with interest. 

“Well? Are you going to show me or not?”   
His mouth turns down slightly, clearly annoyed with me.   
“I could show you, unless you’re interested in a wager of sorts…” He is looking at me intently.   
I cock my head to the side.   
“What kind of…wager?” I am immediately suspicious.   
“I’ll let you look for the passage and if you find it, you may ask a favor of me. If you are unable to find it, you will grant me a favor.” His mouth twitches into a smile, a true smile this time. 

I am about to balk at this proposal, but his smile throws me off. Staring up at him, I think carefully about this proposal. There is a lightness in his gaze that is unfamiliar to me.   
“And what favor are you going to ask me for?” I am suspicious.   
He chucks a finger under my chin and the light from the sconces catch the irises of his eyes, shifting the color from brown to hazel. They are disarmingly lovely. I feel a twinge of hope that some part of him thinks my blue eyes are lovely too. 

I blink quickly.   
What? 

I refocus on his face, still looking pleasantly down at me. How could it be that just a few hours ago this man was threatening spank me with a whip?   
“What favor will you ask me for if you succeed, Desirey?” His tone is light.   
“I-I will have to think…” I trail off. This opportunity would be too good to waste, but this spurs my agreement.   
“Will you agree to our wager?” The King asks and brushes a finger down my cheek.   
I nod in response and quickly turn away from him. 

I step forward toward the paneled wall and begin to run my hand along the wood. It is smooth and polished, with carved beveling in multiple places for decoration. I continue to search, pressing the tips of my fingers on the wood, searching for a flaw that will give away the location. The King follows without speaking.   
I place both hands on the wood and reach the end of the wall, finding nothing. I turn around to trace the same path. It must be along this wall where there are no windows. 

The King stands in front of me, but continues to step back as I approach him. I try to keep me focus on the wall, but I am distracted by the King’s determined gaze.   
Finding no physical mark, I look up the wall to the burning sconces. There is a space ahead of me where the sconces are placed further apart than in other parts of the room. This must be it.   
I run my hands down the length of paneling, but there is no obvious handle. I am certain this is the spot, but I cannot determine where the latch lies. I tilt my head back and stare up toward the ceiling. No tell tale line stands out to me. I turn to around to see if the King will provide me with some sort of hint, but I bump directly into his broad chest. He is right behind me. 

He smiles down at me and I meet his gaze, waiting.   
“I think it must be here.” I say simply.   
The King takes a small step toward me and I move backwards, finding myself flush against the wood paneling.   
The King brings both hands up to each side of my head, but does not touch me.   
His head tilts down toward my face and I am sure he is going to kiss me.   
“Majesty…” I try, averting my eyes, pleading with him with my voice. 

His chest pushes up against mine and I feel caged in. This is not a wager, it is an excuse for the King to touch me. 

Just as I am about to protest, I am falling backwards, reaching forward toward the King as the wall behind me gives way.   
My fingers grip his doublet tightly as I keep myself from falling. Still hanging on to him, I crane my neck behind me to see that the place I was standing against moments ago has opened to reveal a carpeted passageway. It is dark, without any windows to bring in light, but I detect glinting down one side of the wall that must be further sconces that are lit when the passage is in use. 

I collect myself and let go of the King’s doublet. I take a step forward and peer into the passage to get a better look at the construction of the door. Reversed hinges hold the door ajar, but are impossible to see from the front. I pull the paneling toward me and inspect the other side. A heavy gold handle exists for the person returning to the King’s chamber to use to return to the room. It is a clever design. 

I look back at the King. “I found it.”  
“Not quite.” He counters.   
I frown at him. “I am standing in the passageway, am I not? I believe that makes me the winner of the wager.” I straighten my spine and put my hands on my hips.   
The King thrusts one of his hands into the pocket of his breeches.   
“Ah, but I did help you along at the end. You would not have been able to open the door without me showing you how.”   
“I would have figured it out if you had given me more time, instead of thrusting yourself upon me and interrupting the process.” I am annoyed with him and his attempts to change the rules of our wager. 

“I did nothing of the sort. You did not understand how to open the door and now I have shown you.” His eyes are still bright as he leans a shoulder up against the frame of the doorway.  
I am quickly struck by the fact that I am cornered in this passageway. The King could pull the door shut behind him and nobody would know where we were.   
Stepping forward quickly, I slink past him through the opening he has left on the other side of the door frame. My gown brushes against him, but I manage to make it through without him touching me. 

He turns and reaches for the paneling on the door and swings it forward with force, pulling his hand away at the last second so that the door closes, but not on his fingers. Everything on the wall is as it was before. 

“So who wins our wager? Perhaps it is a wash?” I look at him carefully.   
He shrugs, but smiles. “I think under the circumstances we could call a truce. Neither of us won, but neither of us lost either.”   
I try not to be disappointed at my loss of the favor, but I am at least grateful the King has lost too. I shrug and nod at him, checking the clock on his mantle to determine how soon Lady Nora might arrive with my dinner gown. 

I am about to ask the King for permission to sit at one of the chairs by his fireplace when he grabs my hand. Lifting my fingers to his lips he softly kisses them, all while looking me directly in the eye.   
“Since I was the creator of the wager I think it is only fair that we are still granted the spoils in the face of a truce. What do you say to that, Desirey?” His lips drop down to my fingers again.   
“I-I suppose that would be fine.” I try to pull my fingers away, but he holds them tightly. He holds my fingers formally as if we are entering the Great Hall as he leads me toward the chairs by the fire. It is warmer now that the cool rain has stopped and I tug a little at the neckline of my gown to relieve the overwarm feeling at my chest. 

“Sit.” The King says and waits for me to descend before he folds himself down into his chair, picking up his goblet and holding it on his knee.   
I place my hands in my lap.   
“What favor can your King grant for you, Lady Desirey?” He sips from his goblet again. His eyes are focused and intense. 

I take a deep breath and consider my options. There is already paper and ink in my room, but I feel as if the King might grow angry if I ask for the ability to write to others. There is not anyone for me to write to, at least not yet, and the King would be suspicious. 

Millie will clearly be taking her time as she moves out of my apartments and the King has already proved he is unwilling to make her speed up the process. 

I am just about to ask the King for more time to consider when I recall my irritation about the King’s order to disallow me a veil to go with my wedding gown. 

This seems as good a favor as any at this point. 

“I want to be able to wear a veil on our wedding day.” I say, tossing my shoulders back and meeting his eyes.   
He does not respond right away, but the grip of his hand on his goblet tightens just a fraction. 

“A veil has not been designed for you and I specifically gave that order.” The King says, matter-of-factly. His grip is still firm on his goblet.   
“Yes, Lady Nora explained that you did not wish for me to wear one, but I would prefer that I did.” The King is looking at me, but I can read the distaste pulling at his lips.   
I try another tactic.   
“A veil is a symbol of humility and my obedience to the church.”   
The King frowns. “You will not wear a veil.”   
“It will be talked about. The clergy will think it is unseemly.”   
“The clergy will be advised to my decision.” 

“But-“  
“Desirey…” There is a warning in the way he says my name that makes it clear that my argument is not working.   
I take a deep breath and wait for him to sip from his goblet again. 

“It is…important to me to wear a veil when we are married.”  
The King sighs and my window of opportunity is closing. If I continue to complain it will only inflame his temper. He stands up and approaches me.   
“I do not relish having to repeat myself.” His voice is low.   
I try one last time.   
“Please-“  
“Desirey!” The King barks, his eyes darkening. 

“I only wish to be afforded what other women are allowed to wear when they are married.”  
The King glares down at me, the hand without the goblet reaching for me, but I rush to continue.   
“There should be no question as to my virginity.”  
The King’s arm stops moving, but he is still bending down toward me. 

“Don’t you want the court and the world to know that I have been saved only for you?” I look up through my lashes.   
The King’s eyes are dark and his lips part momentarily as he takes a deep breath.   
I lower my head demurely. The King has already shown his attachment to idea of deflowering me. Why not play on his own weakness for once? 

The King reaches out and pulls me up against his chest, before turning around swiftly and seating himself in my chair. He pulls me into his lap somewhat gracelessly. He is so tall that my legs dangle over his knees.   
“I have my reasons, Desirey.”  
I look down at the goblet in his hand, trying to give myself something to do besides looking at him.   
“What are you reasons?” I chance a glance at him. 

“Not all of them are appropriate for your…virginal ears.” He laughs a little at this, before tilting his goblet up toward me, offering me a drink.   
I reach for the bell of the goblet, but the King does not allow me to take it. Instead, my hand grips around his fingers as he tilts the goblet toward my lips. I take a long swallow of a sweet wine, the fermented taste making my lips buzz. I bite my lip at the sensation and find the King’s eyes focused closely on my mouth. 

I try again.   
“You told Anna not to put me in a veil once…” I trail off, giving him the opportunity to explain. I did not realize men had such weighty opinions on fashion.   
“I like you without them.” He is still looking at my mouth.   
I part my lips slightly. “Why?”   
The King adjust so that his back is leaning more heavily on the chair. He sets his goblet on the small table near his right hand while his left hand runs lightly up my back. 

“The day my father made me visit you in disguise. I watched you before we were formally announced. You were out in the gardens at Hatfield, digging up a weed or something you did not want near the plants.”  
I try to follow his story, but I helped Anna in the garden so often I cannot pinpoint this time.   
“Your hair…” His fingers splay and begin to brush through the hair that hangs closest to my waist. “You had it twisted up in a cloth, but it must have been too tight and you let it loose. The way it looked when it fell down your back was…incredible. Like the fireworks during the new year season.” His voice is soft and far away.   
I put my hand up to my temple, feeling the few pins there holding my bronze colored hair away from my face. 

“Anna always says my scalp is too sensitive. I despise anything that pulls my hair.” I look back at the King.   
His hand follows mine to my temple and pulls slowly at the pin, tossing it on the floor once he has pulled it free of my tresses.   
“Where are the rest?” He asks and I point to another pin that he also removes. He repeats this multiple times until my hair hangs freely.   
The King lifts his hand and examines one of the soft waves near my cheek.   
“I like your hair down, like this. It reminds me of the first time I saw you.” 

“You knew me before that.” I challenge, reminding him of our childhood.   
The King sighs.  
“The first time I saw you as a woman, Desirey. I told you I was not pleased at the prospect, but that day in the garden and when I saw you later in your hall, I came around to the idea. You have only gotten lovelier with time.” He nuzzles his nose into the hair at the nape of my neck as he breathes in.   
“You will be a good wife once you have been trained…” 

I stiffen as I feel his hands pull my waist toward him, the fabric of my gown allowing me to slide along his lap.   
His lips touch my collarbone and I shiver.   
“I have been trained to be a queen-“ I attempt to argue, but I am interrupted.   
“You may have been trained to be a queen, but not a wife. I confess I am glad that I will be the one to teach you, without the silly expectations you might have been taught by your mother or the women of the court.” His lips smirk against my neck. 

“My mother taught me some things before she died.” I am indignant.   
The King’s dark eyes lift to mine.   
“I daresay the things I am referring to are not something your mother would have discussed with you as a child.”   
A hand slides to my breast and I look away. Of course he is going to use this chance to fondle me. 

“You will learn how to please me when we are alone. I do not expect you to know exactly what I like, but a wife is expected to be willing and I know that with time we will be able to exterminate your streak of obstinacy.”   
I arch my back away from him. He is acting as if I am going to allow him to treat me like one of the hounds used during the hunt. Obedient to their master, following orders without question. 

“I will always know my own mind.” I challenge him, but his eyes sparkle back at me.   
“You are proving to be far more stubborn than I had expected.” He lets out a laugh, low in his chest.   
“You may know your own mind, but in doing so do not forget that you belong to me.” 

His hand is tight on my throat, forcing me to look at him.   
“You may have your veil.” He looks down at me with his eyes hooded. 

I blink, somewhat uncomfortably. “Thank you, your majesty.”   
He smirks. “I will content myself with the fact that if you are wearing a white veil, it means very soon you will be wearing nothing in my bed. I will not have to wait much longer.”


	19. A Pitcher of Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desirey speaks with Duke Hux.

I shift uncomfortably in the King’s lap.   
“Lady Nora will be here soon.” I say by way of escape.   
The King’s hand, so recently gripping my throat, slides around into my hair.   
“Lady Nora knows to expect that I am not always alone here. Do not fret.” His hand goes to the top of my head and snakes down across my hair. The sensation makes my scalp tingle pleasantly in the way it does when Anna brushes and arranges my hair. 

I ignore his reference to who else might join him here and tilt my head back into his hand to encourage him.   
The way he is lifting and tugging at the hair at the nape of my neck makes me almost dizzy. The King urges me from his lap onto the floor and I kneel with my back to him, flipping my hair behind me to allow him better access the my sheet of locks. His knees spread to allow me between them and I am struck by how tall he is even when he is seated. 

A piece of hair near my ear is tugged softly and I arch back toward the King.   
“Do you like this?” The King asks, using both of his hands now to shift the locks of hair apart and together. 

“Yes.” I sigh, letting my eyes close. “Anna used to brush it for me at night when I had nightmares to calm me down.”   
“Hmm…” The King hums behind me. “Nightmares?”   
I nod. “After my father…” I trail off. The King’s hands still for just a moment before they are back in my hair.   
The King does not speak further, likely realizing that the mention of my father will sour my mood. I push the thought of my father away as the draw of the King’s hands overshadow my sadness. 

The clock on the mantle chimes and the King’s hands leave my hair, settling softly on my shoulders.  
“Lady Nora should be here in a momentarily. She might be startled to find her future queen sitting on the floor.” He laughs a little when I twist around to glare at him.   
“You continue to insult me every time you remind me that you have refused to grant me my God given title.” I push up from the floor as he stands.   
“Soon, my kitten.” His pointer finger reaches out and taps me on the nose like I am a child. I step away from him as soon as Lady Nora knocks and enters the King’s room with two maids trailing behind her. 

“Majesty, Lady Desirey,” She curtseys to the King and then to me, her maids following suit. “I’ve brought selections for our Lady for this evening.” She gestures toward the maids who each bear a gown.   
One of them is the black velvet gown I noticed earlier in the wardrobe. Lady Nora has been true to her word and had it made ready for me within hours. My eyes catch on the diamond covered panel and I am immediately sure this is what I will wear. I open my mouth to make my selection, but the King is already speaking, having come to stand next to me in front of the maids.   
“The red one, I think.”   
My eyes swerve to the second gown of scarlet taffeta. Small jewels line the front of the bodice before a full bell skirt sweeps out across the floor. Cap sleeves with ivory ribbons are they only variation from the striking red.   
I feel a rumble of dissatisfaction in my chest. 

“The King is not aware that I chose the black gown this morning during my visit to your workplace, Lady Nora. I appreciate the time it took you to prepare it for me tonight. I will wear the black.” I do not look at the King in an effort to hide my annoyance. I take a step toward the maid with the black gown.   
Lady Nora does not move, but the maid with the black gown looks uncomfortable. Her fingers close tightly around the velvet in a way that I’m sure will wrinkle the fabric.   
“Cora, the red, if you please.” Lady Nora speaks, and the maid in front of me begins to step back with her eyes down and I understand that I might have not wasted the breath in my lungs to voice my opinion. 

The King has spoken. The King’s word is law. 

I bite a corner of my mouth to keep from speaking my discontent and stride toward the dressing screen. I do not bother to look at the King.   
Lady Nora meets me around the other side with the maid and they proceed to remove and replace my gown. The red taffeta is very comfortable and I know it will look striking next to the King in his black doublet and coat, but I am still annoyed.   
Lady Nora does not meet my eyes when I roll them to convey my feelings. She is methodical in her movements and her face is unreadable. Even without words she is chastising me for potentially angering the King. 

One final loop is tied and Lady Nora steps back to scrutinize the fit. She gives me a brief nod and I step out from behind the screen.   
The King’s eyes are on me the moment I am back in his line of sight. His gaze slides from my waist, to my chest, finally resting on the skirt of the gown.   
“Beautiful.” He murmurs. “The jewels?” 

I turn back to Lady Nora who is calling to someone in the next room.   
A footman bows before approaching the King with a small wooden box. He opens it, revealing the contents. The King reaches into the box and draws out a length of gold chain before he palms the gem at the end.   
“You may leave us.” He commands and the footman sets the open box on one of the King’s tables before following Lady Nora and the maids out of the room. 

Before the King can bark anymore orders, I move in front of the large mirror I stood before earlier today to view my wedding corset. I am pleased by the way the gown is fit perfectly to me. It gives me something to admire in the wake of my frustration.   
The King walks up behind me, lifting his arms to bring what must be a necklace around my throat. I watch as the King’s palm opens to reveal a ruby the size of a hen’s egg, set in gold filigree, accented all around with diamonds. The color is a perfect match to the scarlet gown. The King clasps the chain around my neck and allows the ruby to settle into my décolletage. The setting is warm from its time in the King’s palm. 

I tilt my head to the side and watch the ruby flash. It is heavier than anything I have worn thus far.   
“New?” I inquire, stepping closer to the mirror.   
The King follows, barely allowing an inch between us.   
“Yes. The Court Jeweler acquires new pieces each month. His eye for stones is without match.”   
“It is beautiful.” 

“There are earrings too.” He says and goes back across the room to the box. I watch him carefully in the mirror. In only his doublet, the line of his shoulders is clear, they are obviously strong and he walks with purpose. His long quick strides betray his ignoble upbringing. My father never hurried anywhere, taught as he was from a young age that the court waits for the King, no matter the hour or his tardiness.

He returns to me and I turn around, expecting him to hand them to me, but he shakes his head.   
“Let me.” I obediently turn back to the mirror and watch as the King slides my hair around my shoulder, baring my right ear to him. With astonishing gentleness, he guides the post of the earring through the hole in my earlobe and attaches it with a metal backing. He repeats this process with my left ear, sliding my hair carefully down my back when he has finished.   
His hands are on my shoulders, keeping my hair behind me and I take in the new earrings. They hang from my ears by delicate gold chains, ending in multiple small rubies that almost touch my shoulders. 

“Do you like them?” King Kylo asks. He is genuine.   
“They are both beautiful, your majesty.” I let my head turn to the right and admire the way the earrings move near my throat, their red stones compliment the large ruby at my throat.   
“I like them too. The red sets off your hair wonderfully. I knew you would look magnificent in red.”

His eyes meet mine in the mirror again. He bends to put his lips near my ear.   
“My red.” He emphasizes the word ‘my’ as his hands slide down to my waist.   
I am about to counter that I might look just as good in the blue of my family’s colors, but the King pulls me back roughly against him. 

His voice is hoarse in my ear.   
“I like pretty things, Desirey. And I especially like it when pretty things are dressed up in my colors, wearing my jewels, in my private room.”   
His lips find my throat and I try to pull away. His possessive words are honeyed, but concerning. 

“W-We must go to the Great Hall.”   
“I have not yet extracted my favor from you, kitten…” His voice is smooth as he spins me around to face him.   
I stare dumbly up at him, a pit forming in my stomach for what he might ask for.   
Or take. 

But the King’s eyes find the clock again and he releases me. He goes to pick up his court jacket and slides it on with one quick motion before approaching me again. I cannot help but admire how nicely the jacket lies on his broad shoulders.   
He reaches for my hand and pulls me toward the door.   
“I suppose I will have more time to consider my favor over dinner. It is not often that someone walks so willingly into a bet with a king.” 

I maintain composure as the King and I walk to the Great Hall. My hand feels sweaty and moist in the King’s hand, but he does not let go, nor does he seem to care.   
I look carefully at the knights who accompany us, but do not recognize the men that I convinced to take me to the King. Perhaps they are off duty for the evening or simply at another place in the castle. 

The noise in the Great Hall immediately ceases when the King’s trumpets announce our arrival. We enter and make our way to our seats. I search the room and find the Countess seated next to her husband on the King’s side.   
I look carefully at my chair and realize I have been given the distinct dishonor of sitting next to Duke Hux for our meal. I do not hide my distaste when we are seated and the Duke inclines his head at me. 

“Lady Desirey, an honor.” He breathes, his green eyes reminding me of the serpent in a painting of the Garden of Eden that was once in my mother’s collection. It scared me as a child and was immediately removed.   
“Your grace.” I reply through gritted teeth, immediately turning my face away from his. 

Our meal begins and I continue to sit in stony silence, my knees pointing toward the King and away from the Duke who I am refusing to speak to.   
The King has obviously noticed and proceeds to put his hand on my knee while he speaks to the Count of Anjou at his right hand. 

“The council has begun the selection of your Ladies in Waiting, did you know?” Duke Hux is speaking to me, but I am careful not to look him in the eye.   
“How lovely.” I reply, flatly.   
“Lovely is the appropriate term for it. The King himself has ordered that any girl moderately unfortunate looking must not be allowed into your service.”   
I stiffen, but look at him anyway. He bites unceremoniously into a turkey leg and chews, all while smirking over at me. 

“The King knows best.” I say, dismissively. 

“The gentlemen of the court are eager to see what tidbits might be available for the taking.” The Duke watches me carefully.  
I glance at him, but do not wish my disgust to be noticed by other members of the court. The Duke is a powerful man with many allies. 

“Look all you like, but be assured that I will never allow any of the women in my service to fall into your unsavory hands. Having narrowly escaped them myself.” I hiss, moving my potatoes around my plate.   
The King is caught up in conversation with the Count and Countess, someone further down the table has raised their voice to speak to him too. 

The Duke frowns, but continues to look at me from the corner of his eye.   
“Your attention is misplaced. It would be better to warn your ladies away from your fiancé, who has worked his way through almost every noblewoman on our island.” 

In an effort not to flinch, I shrug my shoulders.   
“He is the King. He is the most desirable man in our kingdom. There is no man that could touch him in station…..or looks.” The words of praise burn in my mouth, but they are necessary to emphasize my point. 

The Duke is inferior to the King in his position and his appearance.   
I chance a lingering look at the King to prove my opinion is authentic. 

The Duke stares straight ahead and continues to eat.   
“Wine, your grace?” I ask the King when he turns momentarily to look at me. He nods and waves behind himself for the page bearing the pitcher.   
I gesture for my goblet to be filled alongside his.   
The King drinks deeply and turns back to the Count who has invited another man to come speak with them. The Countess is thoroughly engrossed in her heaping plate and takes little notice of my attempts to meet her eyes. I would much rather converse with her than with the Duke. 

The Duke shifts in his seat, closer to me as he reaches for a chunk of bread.   
“If only you could be so assured of your station. Not even your exceptional beauty will keep the King from putting you aside once you give him a son…” He trails off and his mouth twists unpleasantly into a smirk that others might think suggested a joke from the Duke. From where I am sitting it is clearly a snarl. 

“I am curious to know what he will do with you once he is done. A nunnery perhaps? A room in the tower could be found, I am almost certain.” He chuckles softly. I turn sharply toward the King, but I am irritated to see that he has left his seat and is several seats away from us. His tall figure towers over a man and woman at the end of the table. The woman is laughing and looking adoringly up at the King, as is the man I expect is her husband. They clearly love their King. 

“You forget your place.” I bite back, lifting my chin imperiously.   
“Not so far from yours.” He counters leaning closer to me. “I am second only to his majesty. It would not be unheard of for him to gift me with his castoffs. Especially if he wanted such a prize guarded under lock and key. I’ll have you know that I have excellent locksmiths…” 

I feel as if I am about to retch. The earlier threats from the King come flooding back to me. An unpleasant scene unrolls in my brain of me being dragged into one of the Duke’s manors by my hair before receiving untold tortures. 

“The King needs me.” This time I look him squarely in the eye, reminding him of my position and the guarantees I bring to the King’s reign.   
“For now.” He brings his goblet to his lips and drains it, eyes unblinking as they look into mine. 

The King is looking better by the minute. I have a strong desire to slap the Duke, but clench my hands in my lap, looking across the hall. My eyes catch on a group of people laughing loudly near the tall windows. They are far enough down the tables that I have to squint to identify the woman at the middle of the group. 

I need not have squinted in the first place.   
The Duchess of Grafton appears to be holding court in the center of many fashionable men and women, her head thrown back in obvious glee. Even from this vantage point I can tell that Millie is encrusted in jewels. Every movement elicits a refraction of sparkles from her gown. 

I try not to grimace.   
The Duke’s eyes have followed mine.   
“Ah…so you’ve discovered our enchanting duchess. It is a wonder they can extricate themselves from one another long enough to eat a meal.” His eyes flash knowingly to the King. 

I refuse to look at him, instead letting my eyes follow his to the King. He leans casually against the chair of a man he is speaking to. As another chorus of laughter rings across the hall, I watch as the King’s eyes alight briefly on Millie, as if he knew exactly where to look to find her in the crowded hall. 

He probably does know where to find her. At all times.   
After all, she is his mistress. 

“She will not be here for long.” I let the Duke hear my defiance. I will not tolerate this woman.   
The Duke laughs. It is a cruel laugh, made to make me feel stupid. 

“Do you really believe the King will get rid of her?” He arches a brow in my direction and I frown back at him.   
He studies me for a moment, before his thin lips stretch into a wide grin. His eyes sparkle at me and he leans in as if he is going to confide in me.   
“Did he tell you he would remove her for you? Or make you some promise about exiling her to some manor house deep in the country?”   
I look sharply back at the King who is focused on his conversation. How does the Duke know all of this? 

“You truly are a foolish and simple girl. What do you think he said to the mistress Millie replaced? And the woman before her? And the pretty kitchen maid before her?” He looks at me without blinking and I press my hands into my stomach. 

He cannot be telling the truth. I refuse to believe it.   
“He may have been able to get rid of the ones before Millie, but that girl has her claws so far into him that he will never be free of her. At least, not without a fight.”

“You are the fool if you think the King plans to cheapen our marriage by carrying on with that woman in public. I am still the ‘Lancaster Rose’ and the people will not stand for it.” I take a long drink from my goblet of wine to punctuate this point. 

“I think we both understand what the people will and will not stand for. Why, I do not seem to remember them standing up for you or your father all those years ago. Why do you think that is? You were unwanted.” His smile is vicious and I feel an overwhelming sympathy for whatever woman might end up as his wife. There is nothing kind within him. 

I feel my face flush as my anger ripples through my body.   
Unwanted.   
He has touched on one of my worst insecurities. The sting is more poignant not because it comes from the Duke’s ire, but because it stems from the truth of the matter. 

I am tempted to ask the King to retire when I notice the page behind me starting the approach the King with the pitcher of wine. The King holds his goblet out loosely to be filled and I am struck with a thought.   
Before the Duke can whisper anymore venom into my ear, I stand abruptly. 

“I will bring it to the King.” I say to the page in a commanding voice.   
His eyes barely meet mine, but they shift from the pitcher to the King. This is a breach of protocol. A Queen does not serve anyone.   
But I have served the King at tea and the words of Duke Hux have lit a fire inside me. 

I hold out my hands and the heavy pitcher is quickly transferred to me without further hesitation. I can feel the Duke’s eyes on my back as I approach the King.   
The King immediately looks at me, having noticed my movement from my seat faster than he found Millie across the room.   
I do not hide my pleasure at this, knowing that the Duke will have noticed this too. 

Smiling sweetly at the King, I bob a little curtsey and fill his goblet, much like a country wife might serve her husband.   
The King looks momentarily confused, but smiles broadly at me before offering me his cup, obviously pleased with me. 

“Darling.” He inclines his head toward me. I take a long drink before handing his goblet back to him and holding out the pitcher to the page that has followed me. I curtsey lower than necessary to him so that my hair falls in front of my face. When I rise, I let a stray length of hair stay near my eye in the hope that the King will take the bait. 

There is not even a heartbeat before the King is reaching out to slide my hair back into place, his eyes catching on the ruby at my throat and the swell of my breasts.   
I smile innocently up at him before turning back to return to my seat. 

I wait just long enough to make the pretense of arranging my skirts, but really I take the opportunity to smirk at the Duke. 

I may have been unwanted by the people, but I am not unwanted by the King.


	20. An Evening Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desirey takes an evening walk with the Countess.

Not long after the King calls for dessert to be served and I am thoroughly stuffed with bread pudding, Duke Hux excuses himself. The King allows him to leave without so much as a backward glance.   
I take the opportunity to ask a page to bring the Countess to his empty seat. She floats toward me in a rush of amber silk. 

“Majesty,” She curtseys dramatically and I feel a spark of pride at her refusal to adhere to the King’s command about my title. I smile at her and wait as she flounces into the Duke’s seat.   
“I have craved your company, darling girl! Your bridegroom tortures me with explanations of how busy you are.” She gives the King a playful glare that does not quite mask her true irritation. 

To his credit, the King smiles at her as if she is another favored guest.   
“Lady Desirey has been busy preparing for our wedding. Forgive me if I have not allowed you to waylay her progress.” His words do not match the look on his face.   
“No matter,” She waves a jeweled hand at him. “We shall catch up with a quick walk through the garden. What say you, my dove?” She poses this question to me without looking at the King. 

I decide it is best if I play the part of calm mediator even though it makes me stomach clench.   
“With your majesty’s permission?” I turn to him.   
His eyes dart past me to the Countess. He must decide that she is not enough of a threat to warrant his intervention.   
“Yes, yes. Go.” He nods in my direction and I reward him with a dazzling smile. 

At last. Being alone with the Countess is far preferred to being in the company of those the King has chosen for me.   
We rise to leave, but the King grabs my hand.   
“I will join you in the garden when I have finished here. I expect that you will not wander too far into the flowers.”   
His smile is polite, but his eyes are hard.   
He is still angry with the Countess for spilling the details of his negotiations with the King of France and the Pope, add that to his general opinions about her and it is a miracle we are allowed to leave his sight. 

I smile pleasantly and we turn to leave. We have just filtered through one of the adjoining doors to the Great Hall when the King’s voice behind me stops us. The Countess stands close to me as we turn around.   
“You seem to lack a cloak, Lady Desirey. That is a breach of your promise not to catch cold.” His voice sounds endearing, but there is a hint of a challenge there too. As if he thinks he has put a stop to our venture.   
I am about to voice my annoyance at his interruption, but I realize that the King is likely paranoid when it comes to the Countess, after she expressed how willing she was to be honest with me. If I argue too much, I may give him cause for further suspicion. 

“It is almost sweltering in here. Surely her ladyship is in no great danger during a short walk in the garden.” The Countess does not even attempt to hide her irritation.   
The King turns his eyes on her and for a moment I am afraid that he will strike her.   
“The wellbeing of Lady Desirey is a top concern at the English court. I am aware that the standards of the French court are not quite so high.” This is a slight, but I cannot determine exactly why. 

The Countess stares at him with hard eyes in a way that I imagine might have broken the hearts of more than a few of her lovers over the years.   
“We shall send for one to be brought to her. Her highness must have rooms full by now.” The Countess bravely bites back. 

The King opens his mouth and I know before he even begins to speak that he is going to send me back to my rooms.   
I think quickly. 

“Perhaps Your Majesty will allow me to borrow your cloak again? Your rooms are closer and I’m sure one of your footman could find it faster than one of my ladies could.” I peer up at him as I lay a tentative hand on his forearm.   
The King looks down at me. I can tell he is still going to tell me ‘no’ just to spite the Countess. 

“Your cloak is far warmer than anything I have ready in the wardrobe and…and it smells like you.” I breathe. My eyes flit up to his and away, somewhat embarrassed by this flirtatious tactic.   
The King’s mouth twists slowly into self satisfied smile.   
“With such sound reasoning, how could I refuse?” He puts his hand over mine, still resting on his arm.   
He calls for a footman and explains his request. I force myself not to look at the Countess.  
The door behind the King opens and a group of nobles spill out. They are immediately reverent when they see the King and beg his pardon, which he gives with a broad smile. However, they linger a ways down the hallway and I cannot tell if they are waiting to catch the King alone or if they are curious about the exchange taking place. 

The Countess shifts behind me, her gown rustling as she waits awkwardly.   
The King looks back into the Great Hall, appraising the court and likely determining who he wishes to speak to. I turn from where I have been pretending to examine a painting and catch the Countess’s eye. She smiles tentatively at me, but her wrinkled cheeks remain slack. 

A footman appears from down the hall and brings the King’s cloak to him with a bow. He sweeps it out from the footman’s arms and I turn to allow him to place it over my shoulders.   
The woodsy smell of the King surrounds me as he clasps it with a heavy gold buckle under my chin. He smiles at me as he pulls a large black hood over my head.   
He leans in toward me. “I find that I do not necessarily mind when your hair is covered in my cloak.” His eyes are bright and I feign a small smile. There are so many people near us and I am desperate to avoid any more gossip that is certainly circulating. 

I smile at him before giving a small curtsy. I link my arm with the Countess and we move along the corridor toward the gardens. As we turn a corner, I catch a glimpse of the King watching our departure and wonder how soon a spy will be sent to follow us.   
We step lightly out into the gardens that have been filled with small lanterns to aid the vision of other visitors to the gardens. They are sprawling and beautiful, even in the in the evening light. The lanterns cast shadows and dark patterns over the winding gravel paths. 

The Countess grips tightly onto my arm as we make our way leisurely through a few bends in the path, speaking about nothing in particular.   
I hear the sound of running water ahead and ask the Countess if she would mind taking a seat at the fountain ahead.   
“How charming, of course!”   
The fountain ahead of us splashes merrily in the relative silence of the night. We draw close to the edge and seat ourselves on the stone lip, just out of reach of the heavy splashes that fall from robust stream at the top. 

The Countess arranges herself carefully next to me.   
“I am thrilled to be able to spend more time with you. The court is dull without your presence.” She reaches a bejeweled hand to take mine.   
“The King has required my attendance on a variety of matters.” I look carefully behind us. When I look back at the Countess, her kind face urges me on. “I confess that I…am not the master of my own movements at this time.”

The Countess is sympathetic. “My darling, are we ever? There is always someone somewhere deciding what women can and cannot do. Even those in our position quickly realize that no matter how dazzling the gilt cage, there are still bars nonetheless.” Her face falters slightly.   
I look curiously at her.   
“And, yet, your youth was spent far more freely than many would have been allowed.”   
She smiles at me before pressing her hand to her bodice. 

“You are correct that I was mostly free to wander and attend as many parties as I liked, but make no mistake, my leash was pulled often enough.”   
For all her positive exclamations about her life on the continent and in England, I wonder who might have dared to tame the Countess.   
I press further.   
“Was this…pulling…what convinced you to marry your husband? Were you pleased to become his wife in the time before your marriage?” I am eager for any advice she might give.   
The Countess turns her face away from mine and looks out upon the small area of lawn in front of us. 

“In the end, my darling, I was resigned to it. The Count was not cruel and was content to live the rest of his life without the burden of heirs. Luckily enough, I had known him long before our betrothal and we went to the altar happy enough. He has been indulgent of me and I have been patient with him.” She looks back at me.   
“And what of you, my dove?” Her hand wraps around mine again. “I confess that our last conversation has left me mildly concerned.”   
I look carefully behind me, hoping we are not being overheard. The space around the fountain is empty, but I remain cautious. 

“I did know the King before I returned to court… but that was long ago. My memories are through the eyes of my childhood. He is not what I expected, nor did I expect to be forced to marry him.”   
The Countess looks at me sharply.   
“Forced?”   
I realize my mistake too late. My mind grapples with a way to explain away the use of a word with such strong implications without giving away too much information the King would not want others to hear. My fear of him is greater than my desire to trust the Countess. 

“I must marry the King if I want any chance at returning to my birthright. As you said before, I will have my crown and my castles.” I shrug slightly.   
The Countess looks at me carefully.   
“I sense that you and I are similarly ensconced in golden cages, but while my husband joins me in mine, perhaps yours is the one holding the key?” 

The look in her eyes is so understanding, I allow myself to crumple into her side.   
My tears flow freely as the Countess pulls me into her arms. Her soft embrace is warm and reminds me vaguely of my mother.   
“There, there, my darling.” Her chubby fingers caress my shoulders in consolation. “I could never abide the thought of a husband that would control me. It is precisely the reason I allowed myself to run wild after the death of my first husband.”   
I sniffle into her bodice. 

“Ruining my reputation was the best thing I ever did.” Her voice is strong, almost proud above me.   
I look up at her, confused.   
She glances down briefly, but she turns her face once again toward the lawn.   
“With the reputation of a harlot, who would want to own me after that? A wife who had been tasted by half the men in Europe? Never mind the fact that every suitor looking to wed me already had mistresses and reputations of their own. Hypocrites, all of them.” She scoffs at this in a way that gives me no question about her opinion on unfaithful husbands. 

“But, the Count?”   
The Countess’s stiff posture relaxes at the mention of her husband.   
“If it was not for me he would likely be dead or exiled. Kings are not kind to brother’s who might rise up to usurp them at any time. I saved the Count from having to constantly look over his shoulder for an assassin. He married a barren whore. What people would rise up in favor of a King whose wife can bear no heirs, that even the Pope could not absolve of her sins? No, the Count has never desired the position he was born to. He was grateful for the escape I gave him. I am grateful for the equality he has given me.”

I flinch at her coarse description of herself. The opinions of the general public do not align with the reality of the intelligent and kind woman who sits beside me. 

I pull myself up from her arms, impatiently pushing the hood of the King’s cloak from my head. My tears have left me warm and flushed and I quickly unlatch the clasp, laying the cloak haphazardly on the lip of the fountain. The cool air of the night brushes my cheek and I feel a measure of relief at having unburdened myself to the Countess and the heat of the King’s cloak.   
The Countess turns to meet my eyes and I realize that behind her confident demeanor is a woman who has been jaded by the machinations of the men around her. I am struck by how similar we truly are. 

“You are stronger than I am.” I say, bitterly.   
“No!” The Countess exclaims fiercely, her hand going abruptly to my cheek to turn my face toward her. “You are better equipped to face your fate than I was. You have known loss, but you have risen. You have survived and you will rule your nation.”   
“You have survived too. You are brave.” I remind her.   
She smiles softly at me. “And yet, you are far braver than I could ever be, walking into the arms of the King.” 

“I have no choice. There was nothing else I could do.” My earlier reservations about being honest with the Countess have vanished. Her easy understanding of my situation has made it clear that I have nothing to fear from her.   
She looks pointedly at me.   
“We always have a choice, my dear. You chose the path that would lead you to your crown. You will ascend your throne and lead your people.”   
I scoff. “The King will lead the people. Madame, you are mistaken if you believe I will be anything but the vessel by which the King will receive his heir, and after that, I will remain the trophy acquired by the victor.” 

The Countess stands, pulling my hands so that I rise with her.   
“Every King is ruled by something. Greed, piety, fear, there is always something that influences him.”   
“Power.” I interject.   
“Yes, my dear. Power above everything. But your King is already ruled by something else.”   
“Cardinal Winterburn and his ego.” I say, turning away from her and staring bitterly back at the palace.  
“You.” Her hand touches my elbow. 

I turn back toward her.   
“His lust will be assuaged upon our wedding night. I have no delusions of a love like King Arthur and Guinevere.”   
“You underestimate your own power, my little Queen. He will be ruled by you, mark my words.”   
I give an unladylike snort. “It shall be a long while before I am able to sway the King in any meaningful way. He is a brute.”   
The Countess cocks an eyebrow at me mischievously.  
“And yet, you very quickly charmed him into allowing you out tonight. Perhaps you’ve already begun to influence him in public and in private…”   
“Madame!”

“Come, my sweet, do not attempt to make me believe a man like King Kylo has allowed you into his presence without tasting you, even the slightest bit?”   
I blush and turn away at her prying.   
“I told you before, I remain a maid.” I take a few steps away toward the open lawn. I have a strong urge to run across it to the nearest gate and sprint until my lungs give out.   
The Countess approaches me. “One can be tasted and still be a maiden.” Her voice is light and hints at information I am shamed to understand.   
I look at her from the corner of my eye. “He is demanding, but I will not give way to his persistence.”   
“Ah, so you are already playing that game with him. I knew you were no empty headed tart.” She wrinkles her nose as if this is the worst thing a woman could be. 

“It is the King’s game and I am the most unwilling player.” I try not to sound sour. The Countess has lifted my mood measurably and I do not wish to drive her away.   
“Perhaps that makes you the most likely to win.” She smiles broadly at me and pulls softly at my hand. 

“Come, I have not felt grass under my feet in years. I may be stout and weighed down with riches, but I think I might be able to race you across this lawn with the ease of an Arabian stallion.” She lifts the hem of her gown and kicks her heeled slippers carelessly into the dewy grass, ruining the silk on impact. The loss of height granted by the heels is immediate, but before I can be shocked, the Countess is off, running at breakneck speed to the other side of the lawn.   
I dare a quick glance back at the palace before following her into the night. 

A short time later the Countess and I are breathless and picking our way across the gravel path of the gardens. The Countess has all but lost her wig and is fretting about how to get back into the palace without the court seeing her gray hair. I offer to borrow her the King’s cloak to hide the results of our ridiculous excursion and she gladly accepts. 

“If you wouldn’t mind, I’ll stay here behind this hedge in the event there are others out at the fountain. I shall perish if I am seen in this state.” The Countess is completely serious and I smile a little as I agree to bring the cloak back to her. Her vanity is endearing. 

The maze-like hedges of the palace are much taller than me, but their design is simple and easy to maneuver. While the Countess and I did not meet anyone along the paths after our run across the lawn, I am still wary of meeting members of the court. 

My bare feet means my progress is slow as I tenderly toe my way across the small pebbles. I should have carried my slippers, but the Countess’s exhilarating behavior got the best of me. The night is quiet and my slow pace gives me time to enjoy the soft sounds of the crickets and the whisper of the river further off. 

I am just about to the round the hedge when I hear a voice ahead of me, just audible over the sound of the fountain that I must be close to by now. I scramble to think of a way to explain the assortment of shoes on the lawn to whatever member of the court will see me when I realize it is the King’s voice.

Speaking to me. 

“You know I do not approve of you leaving my sight.” His voice is annoyed. I look ahead of me around the hedge, but I cannot see him.   
I attempt to hurry forward, knowing he will be angry with me if I delay.   
“You are too lovely to be out here alone. The court is a dangerous place.”   
His voice is closer as I work through the maze and I think to call out to him, but I’m feeling petulant.   
Where is the break in the hedge where he can see me, while I cannot see him?

I look down at my dress. The bright red is startling in the moonlight. Perhaps he can see the color move through the spaces in the hedge.   
“Darling…” The King coos, softer now, and I feel a twinge of relief that he is not angry.   
I step quickly out from the hedge and compose an innocent smile on my face, hoping he won’t notice my lack of shoes. 

“You are a vision tonight. Perhaps on a warmer evening I will let you splash in the fountain. Although you will surely need to wear far less….”  
I open my mouth to chastise the King, when a woman’s voice giggles ahead of me.   
I turn quickly toward the voice. 

The King stands with his back toward the hedge, his face in profile as he fits his hands around the woman in front of him.   
She is taller than me, but I cannot see her face. The King presses his nose into the seam of her cloak where it connects to the hood. She seems to sink backward into him as the King puts his hands into the opening at the front of the cloak. 

“What I would give to take you to bed tonight…”   
The King clutches at the woman’s bodice and she turns her head, the hood slipping past her forehead just enough to show the hair auburn beneath. 

Duchess Millie turns just enough to meet my eyes, at first surprised, but then triumphant. The King’s hands are inside her bodice, groping at her breasts in a way that is almost feral.   
I take a step back. 

The King was apparently not speaking to me through the hedges. Instead he is trysting with his mistress, in full sight of anyone looking out from the palace windows.

How dare he?   
He touches her so possessively it is a wonder he has not seen fit to cast away her husband and marry her instead. 

Millie arches her head back against the King’s chest and I see the pale skin below her collarbone blink into sight. I avert my eyes quickly and look back at the King. Even from the distance that separates us I can tell he is intent upon enjoying Millie right there in the courtyard, while Millie grins like a fox in a henhouse. 

Is this how it will be? Constantly finding my husband in the arms of another woman while the court laughs from behind their glasses of port and silk fans?   
My fury is white hot.

Without further hesitation I move purposely toward my shoes that are flung across from Millie and the King. I do not attempt to move noiselessly and find myself ignoring the pokes and prods of the rocks underneath me as well as the soft murmuring of the King as he takes his pleasure with Millie.   
Reaching my shoes, I stuff them onto my feet and hook two fingers through the heels of the Countess’s slippers. I turn quickly toward the hedge and my slipper grinds through the pebbled path. 

The murmuring and soft giggling behind me stops. I take this opportunity to glare over my shoulder at the pair of them. 

The King stares at me, wide eyed and perhaps a bit confused. He is obviously surprised anyone would interrupt his whoring.   
“Good night, your majesty.” I bite at him with an insolent bow. I do not stay to watch as he begins pulling Millie’s hood off of her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for the delay!


	21. A Dark Corridor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desirey spends time in an 'almost' deserted corridor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short update to move the story along. Thank you for reading! :)

I charge through the hedge maze, desperate to find the Countess and move as far away from the King as I possibly can.

I think mutinously of attempting to bribe a stable boy into lending me a horse. I could ride to the coast and take refuge on a ship bound for France. A poor peasant girl would gladly trade me her rags for my gown.

When I round a final corner, I find the Countess sitting unceremoniously on the gravel path, pulling pins from her hair. Her wig lays forgotten on the ground.

It takes a moment for me to adjust to the sight of her with her natural hair. The Countess was blonde once, that is immediately apparent. Her hair is so gray it is almost white, but it falls in thick waves down to her shoulders. The length has obviously been cut, but I find that the style suits the Countess.

“What ever is the matter? Tell me you’re not angry at me for sitting in the dirt?” The Countess laughs lightly, but squints up at me.

My hands are balled into fists and I take a step back to calm down.

“Now, now. I realize I am older, but there is no reason to be scared of one or two gray hairs.” Her laugh is forced, as if she really believes I am horrified by her appearance.

I wave my hand impatiently as I step forward with her slippers.

“The King. I found him and his mistress all but coupling at the fountain. There is another thing that rules kings that you deigned to mention: other men’s wives.” My voice is bitter.

“Are you quite sure?” The Countess rises, reaching for her shoes and frowning.

“Without the slightest doubt. I would not be surprised if they continue to breed even after I interrupted them.” I look pointedly behind me.

“Bastard.” The Countess grunts, leaning over to stuff her feet into her shoes. “In plain sight. I would have never.”

I bite the inner corner of my mouth. I am certain she _**would** _have, but her loyalty is comforting.

“I should think a few glasses of wine will help you forget your King’s foul behavior. What say you to an evening in my rooms? The Count will make himself scarce.” She smiles at me.

I look back at the palace and allow the idea of a pleasant evening with the Countess to cool my anger.

“I could not be happier to accept.” I proffer my arm to her, but she looks behind me.

“Your cloak?” She cranes her neck as if I might have dropped it.

“Oh. I did not…that is I was not able to…” I trail off, realizing I never grabbed it from the edge of the fountain.

My mind slides back to the image of the King and Millie. My face grows hot again as I recall his greedy hands on her body, the way he pushed his large nose into the crook of her neck, his arms wrapped around her from behind like a second cloak.

Realization creeps up the back of my neck. The cloak.

Is it possible that the King was not aware who was wearing his cloak? Would Millie have recognized it as belonging to him?

I turn back to the Countess, quickly relaying my thoughts. The Countess is immediately on guard.

“This woman…is she cunning enough to have purposely misled the King into thinking she was you?” She folds her arms across her bosom.

I purse my lips. “Absolutely. She is high in the King’s favor, but she is no friend to me.”

She raises an eyebrow tentatively. “Then perhaps your anger is misplaced in this particular case. Perhaps he mistook her for you.”

I bite my lip to keep from making a comment about Millie’s obvious inferiority. While we are worlds apart in birth, she is still a member of the court.

“I hesitate to put the full blame on the King until we are certain. You must pick your battles, as they say.” She smiles, gently. 

“He is still infatuated with her and not innocent in this.” Is she taking his side?

She shrugs.

“A queen must know when to wage war and when to commit to peace.” She puts her arm through mine and begins to pull me toward the palace.

When we cross the gravel path around the fountains, I am not surprised to see the King has vacated the area. There is no trace of Millie, nor of the King’s cloak.

I look carefully around me as we navigate the paths, wondering if the King is nearby looking for me.

He is not.

The Countess for all her dramatics in the hedge maze, is surprisingly resourceful and compliant when it comes to covering her hair. Much to my shock, she rips a length of amber silk from beneath the outer layer of her gown and drapes it about her head and shoulders like a milk maid. Combined with her elaborate jewels, she looks as if she is playing a part in a court masque. I admire how quickly she resumes her confidence.

We enter the palace and step quietly through an inner archway lit with tapers. A shadow moves ahead of us and I stop, expecting one of the King’s guards to be waiting to escort me back to my rooms. I immediately notice a difference in the cadence of the figure that steps toward me. There is no heavy clank of the armor of the Knights of Ren. The Countess peers carefully around me, gripping her silk over her hair. She is also expecting a member of the court.

The figure continues to approach and I step carefully back into the light of one of the larger tapers. The danger of the court is not lost on me.

I think quickly. The King is suspiciously absent. He has barely allowed me privacy to relieve my bladder, let alone wander the palace. After my unexpected visit to the Treasury, I had lost all hope for any independent wanderings.

Could all the earlier concern about a foreign invasion on my behalf have been pushed aside for an expedient assassination instead? Would they risk the loss of the Countess too?

My breath quickens and my heart sinks as the Duke of Norfolk steps into the light.

His face is twisted into a grotesque smirk and his cold eyes meet mine. Although the Countess is unaware of the animosity between myself and Duke Hux, I refuse to acknowledge him. If she thinks me rude, she does not say so, but curtseys to him. I notice the way she turns carefully toward the shadows to hide her hair.

“Madame Countess,” he gives a slight bow to the Countess, but does not extend a greeting to me.

“Your Grace,” she replies sweetly “You have found us returning from our evening walk. Are you setting out yourself? The night is clear and lovely.”

The Duke smiles widely at her.

“Had I known you were taking the air, I would have certainly joined you. I admit I am surprised to find you without your ever attentive husband. He is wise to keep you close at hand, even while this is to the detriment of those that might hope to escort you through the gardens.”

The Countess giggles and stands up straighter, murmuring with barely concealed delight that the Duke is too kind.

I blink at the Countess.

I am no longer listening as they banter back and forth. The Duke runs his hands through his hair and lets his eyes wander down to the Countess’s décolletage, not even hiding his lecherous grin.

Is he flirting with her?

I look sharply back at the Countess. She is looking coyly at the Duke, eyelashes flashing repeatedly as she blinks up at him with wide eyes.

She is accepting his advances!

This shakes something inside me and I interrupt their exchange.

“If your Grace will excuse us. The Countess was just accompanying me to my rooms before returning to her husband.” My voice is too loud for our proximity in the corridor, as if to alert anyone nearby that the Countess has a husband.

The Countess’s face drops in tandem with the Duke’s.

He looks longingly at the Countess before turning to me, the malice in his eyes as bright as the flames on the wall tapers.

“Please excuse me delaying your progress, Madame Countess. I am utterly infatuated with all things French and I lost track of myself.” He winks at the Countess and I fight to keep from wrinkling my nose in disgust.

“Alas, I am here on the King’s business. He wishes to see you in his rooms before you retire. I told him I would be happy to escort you.” His body turns completely back toward the Countess. “I apologize that I must steal away your companion, Madame Countess.” He is all grinning teeth and wide eyes as he begs her forgiveness.

I try not to notice the obvious attraction emanating from the Countess as she waves away his apology.

“Her highness will no doubt be in good hands. I will see myself to my rooms. Adieu, your Grace.” She smiles coyly at the Duke.

“Perhaps I will call on the Count once I have seen to the King’s business? We have not had a chance to discuss a shipment of Anjou Wine from his vineyards. I am always eager for the taste of France.” The Duke practically purrs.

The Countess giggles at the obvious double entendre and I cannot believe what I am witnessing. I too wish I could meet with Count to determine if he knows the Countess has lost hold of her senses.

The Duke and I begin to make our way to the King’s chambers after the Countess reluctantly took her leave to return to her wing of the palace.

I walk almost on the other side of the corridor to avoid the Duke. He glances toward me frequently, but does not speak.

  
I can imagine that the Duke relishes his position, escorting me back to the obvious rage of the King. He will certainly be angry with me, either for being too far from his grasp or for my insolence after finding him with Millie.

“The King seemed in poor spirits when he asked me to go find you. He is obviously concerned on a personal level or he would have sent one of his knights.” He says this with a measure of glee.

“The King will do whatever he pleases.” I say, flatly. I would prefer to walk in silence.

“I am well aware of that. However, I have the distinct impression that you still have not learned that very important lesson.”

I look sharply at him out of the corner of my eye.

“I am well versed in the power of a King. I have an even better understanding of the privileges of a Queen.” I hope the reminder that he will soon have to kneel before me gives him the same unease bowing to him gives me.

“You are still under the illusion that the King will change once he is shackled into matrimony with you.”

“I have no such delusions, your Grace. The King will do as he wishes.”

The Duke does not respond. I take the opportunity to push back at his condescension.

“Your Grace should prepare yourself for the future, when what the King wishes aligns with my wishes.”

The Duke stops walking and turns to look at me. Against my better judgment, I stop to stare back at him. Although I am not eager to find what awaits me in the King’s chambers, arriving without the Duke would surely anger the King further. I will not give him cause to punish me over something as paltry as the accompaniment of the Duke.

“The King is no fool. Not even for a beautiful woman.” He locks his hands behind his back in a courtly stance, as if our exchange is polite and pleasant.

I draw myself up. “You seem to have forgotten our earlier discussion. The King desires me. There is power in that.” My voice is strong even as my stomach flips.

“Any man would desire you. There are more than a few that would be completely ruled by a simple wave of your hand.”

He takes a step toward me and I glare up at him, biting my lip to keep from reminding him that if my role was reversed, he would be ruled by more than just my hand. I would take great joy in sending my army to drag him through the streets to the tower.

“However, once that desire has been sated, it is not uncommon for a man to move on to other pursuits. The King is such a man.”

“Do not say that in the hearing of the Duchess of Grafton. She would certainly claw your eyes out at the mention of her precarious position.” My tone is more confident than I feel.

He arches an eyebrow and steps closer.

“I do not think the Duchess is concerned for her position at the present. Why, she is alone with the King as we speak.” His eyes are bright as if he is sharing something that I will be shocked to hear.

“They will no doubt be continuing what I discovered in the garden just moments before I returned to the palace.” I say, coolly. I will not allow him to have the upper hand, even as my irritation with the King increases to anger. Why is he calling me to join him if he is already being serviced by Millie?

The Duke sucks in one side of his mouth as if he is thinking or trying to keep himself from speaking. It is clear he did not expect me to know that the two of them have been together tonight.

“Yet you do not bear the look of a woman scorned?” His voice is low, but I cannot decide to what end he is leading me with this question.

I look away from him.

“I am in no hurry to join the King in our marital obligations. I should think that would be abundantly clear to you and the rest of the King’s council.”

The Duke looks pointedly at me.

I meet his eyes, trying to decide if I should glare or feign disinterest.

“You are still intact? After all this time?” His voice is low, but bears a hint of astonishment.

I decide on a glare. My cheeks have filled with heat and I am grateful for the darkness of the corridor.

How dare he ask me this question!

I take a few steps forward, continuing to the King’s rooms. Whether this insolent man follows me makes no difference at this point. I will not be subjected to an inquisition such as this.

I am about to round the corner when the Duke speaks behind me.

“He is a stronger man than most.” There is a sliver of awe in his voice.

I stop and give a small snort, without looking back at him.

“He is a stronger man than you. I thank fortune for his apt timing in removing me from Hatfield.” I do not add that I am thankful to have been removed from the Duke’s insubstantial protection in that isolated place.

I hear his footsteps behind me and imagine he is going to continue forward to the King’s rooms, until I feel his hand grip tightly around my wrist.

I begin to pull away and start to protest, but the Duke twists my arm into an awkward angle and I have no choice but to look up at him.

His earlier curiosity has vanished. His eyes are even colder than the King’s and for a moment I am terrified that he will not take me to the King after all. A dagger plunged into my throat would kill me before my body could crumple to the floor.

“What do you think you are-“

He twists my arm again and I gasp at the stretching pain.

“You will learn to control your insolent mouth.” He hisses through gritted teeth, his eyes blazing in a way that gives me no question as to his hatred.

I have always believed in evil, in souls that are predisposed to treachery and foul behavior. Looking into the Duke’s eyes, I know that he is the keeper of one such soul.

“I am not sure what I have done to so greatly offend you, but rest assured I should not be the target of your ire. If you are displeased with my position at court, then you had better address it with the King, not me.” I attempt to be diplomatic in the interest of getting away from the Duke.

I turn my head toward the direction of the King’s rooms and hope that he has gotten impatient and is approaching as we speak.

The Duke digs his fingers in my wrist and moves closer to my ear.

“You have everything to do with my ire, Desirey Lancaster. Know this: If I had known the King was going to alter his course so abruptly in regard to his marriage negotiations, you and I would not be in this corridor right now.” A small smile pulls at his lips.

Cold dread sweeps over me.

“Leave me-“

“I would have relished taking the great King Henry’s pretty little daughter into my bed.” The Duke’s hand grips tighter around my waist, his thin fingers splaying around my hip in a motion that reminds me of a spider stretching within its web.

“If you think for one moment that I would have willingly gone anywhere with you-“

The Duke laughs bitterly and makes no attempt to hide his volume.

“Do you truly believe that your willingness would have stopped me? I was promised you almost from the beginning, in wartime dealings that were further advanced than even you or I knew. I should have taken you to bed the day you began to bleed to ensure my prize.”

There is a faraway look in his eyes and I bite my tongue so hard I taste blood.

This man is truly a monster. I wish desperately for the King to arrive, with or without Millie.

“Release me now or I will scream loud enough to summon the King. Do not think for a moment that I will not tell him you laid your hands upon me.”

The Duke’s head snaps up and peers down the corridor behind me. He looks searchingly into the receding light of the hall, but lets go of my arm and waist. I step quickly back from him, but do not turn my back. I do not trust the Duke even a minute amount now.

He runs his hands slowly through his hair, but returns his gaze to me. His eyes are predatory.

“As I mentioned, you will learn to control your insolent mouth.” His mouth is a flat line, but his eyes betray his anger.

I open my mouth to counter his claim, but he holds up a hand and interrupts me.

“Your maid’s name. What is it?” He snaps his fingers as if he is thinking hard to remember. I hold my breath.

“Ahh, Anna, I believe? A common name for an uncommonly lovely servant. If the King were to somehow become angry with me, I should hate to see what might happen to her lovely face if an angry highway man were to come upon her unannounced…” He licks his lips.

My stomach churns and I fist my hands into my gown.

I try to think of a powerful warning to dissuade the Duke from threatening Anna, but find there is nothing that I might say that would ensure her safety. The Duke will have spies of his own, rest assured.

We glare at each other across the corridor.

The Duke gives me a small smile and, hands clasped once more behind his back, begins to walk forward.

I take a step back as he passes me, my anger erupting at the smirk on his face.

He thinks I am afraid of him. My heart plummets.

The Duke _**knows**_ I am afraid of him.


	22. A Dismissal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desirey attempts to confront the King.

The Duke and I move quickly through the final corridors, both of us rushing to arrive before the King realizes we have been gone too long.

The Duke is sure of himself, a calm smirk on his lips. No doubt he is certain he has silenced me.

My inner thoughts war with each other.

If the King knows the Duke so much as mentioned taking me to bed, he will no doubt repeat his earlier assault on the Duke. The King’s fury at the Duke when he held me down on the chaise has not been forgotten.

But the Duke is sly. Once he deposits me in the King’s room he will assuredly set into motion his own plan to keep track of Anna. Does he know Anna is interested in the man in his service, Thomas Therlin? I will warn her immediately. Perhaps I can ask the King to allow her to remain with me throughout the day. This would be a breach of etiquette, but it did not matter at Hatfield, so why should it matter here? The King knows Anna is dear to me.

Just as we arrive at the doors to the King’s rooms, I decide to hold my tongue. I will let the Duke think he has scared me into submission, but I will take no chances in preparing Anna for the malicious scrutiny she will certainly be under.

The Duke nods to the Knights at the King’s door and they nod politely back at him. It is clear they understand his place at court. I try not to scowl when they step aside, knocking the staffs of their pikes on the stone floor to announce my arrival. I do not look at the Duke as they open the doors, but he speaks just as I life my foot to enter.

“I will inform the Countess that you are otherwise engaged for the rest of the evening.”

I nod at him stiffly, trying to maintain appearances in front of the King’s Knights who will certainly report anything and everything I do back to him. 

“It will be a pleasure to take your place with her tonight. So much the pity that it will be the second time this evening that you have been replaced.” His voice drips false sympathy, but his slight is clear.

The Duke’s attempts to woo the Countess are clearly working and the King is taking his pleasure with Millie. My uncertain position hangs in the air between, but I am conscious of the knights and their open ears.

I turn around, taking a few steps forward before calling quietly over my shoulder.

“Everyone at court is replaceable, your grace. I know this lesson well, but you would be wise to remember it too.”

I stop just long enough to toss a look behind me to ensure that the Duke has heard me. My eyes meet his for just a moment, just long enough to see his jaw tighten.

“Good evening, your grace.” I say before leisurely walking into the King’s entrance chamber.

The room waiting for me is empty. There is evidence among the cushions and chairs of the room that courtiers have visited the King today and I wonder what they petition the King for. My curiosity is piqued at a few pieces of parchment that have been scrawled upon and stacked haphazardly on one of the writing desks. I take a step forward to inspect these potential petitions, but a shout from beyond the chamber stops me.

Moving quickly, I open the door to the King’s inner sanctum. The King’s voice is louder in here, the volume of his voice leaving no doubt that he is in a rage.

I swallow slowly.

So this is how it will be.

He is going to harm me, I am sure of it. My blatant rudeness out in the gardens will earn me another round of spanking, or worse.

My eyes shut briefly as I prepare myself to face the King’s wrath, but then I hear another voice.

Equally loud and sounding just as angry as the King, is the voice of a woman.

The voice rises higher into almost a scream and I move quickly to press my ear closer to the door.

Until now, my brain had not registered the words of the King or his companion, but now with my ear pressed to the hard wood, I can make out everything.

“I will be obeyed in all things and not even you may defy me!” The King’s voice is loud and commanding.

“Surely you cannot expect me to stand aside quietly, after all we have been to each other!” Millie’s voice, now I am certain. My brow furrows as I try to follow their argument.

“You knew this would come, Millie. Do not act insulted or surprised.”

“I knew you would take a wife, but I never expected you to set me aside! Every King takes a mistress! You have taken scores of women, but I have held my place through all of them. Do you truly believe this…this country mouse will keep you satisfied?”

There is a silence beyond the door. My cheeks burn at the insult of my exile, but I do not dare open the door. At least, not yet.

“She is the heir of Lancaster, Millie. This situation is different. I thought to prepare you for this event when I told you I would marry.”

“You knew all along you would have her! You lied to me when you said it would be a portly German princess or a French duchess. You did this on purpose to appease me.” Millie’s voice rises into an unladylike screech.

“I have certainly done more than any other man would to appease you, Madame. If it were asked of me again I would not be nearly so accommodating!” The King shouts. I hear his footsteps move further from the door.

“You will not throw me away! I forbid it!” Millie’s voice snarls through the air for just a brief moment before the King’s boots pound back across the floor. Millie calls out a strangled cry amidst the sounds of scuffling feet.

“Hear me now and for the final time. You are dismissed as my mistress. You will remove yourself quickly and quietly back to your rooms with your husband. You will be, by all accounts, a model wife to the Duke, and bear yourself with dignity befitting a woman of your station. You will say nothing about our past relationship and you will display the proper behavior of a loyal subject.”

The King’s voice is firm.

“This is the last time you will enter though the Queen’s passage. Those rooms will be permanently closed to you. Whoever allowed you through them violated my orders and will be punished accordingly. Your disobedience has cost me my peace of mind and I will no longer indulge it. We are finished.”

I hear footsteps back away.

There is a long pause.

“And if I should dare to disobey you, my lord?” Millie’s voice has shifted from anger to lilting sweetness.

The King does not respond, but I hear the soft rustle of silk.

“Will you take me over your knee? To see that red flush on my bare cheeks always give you such pleasure.” I grimace at the sound of her desperate flirtation.

The rustling silk has stopped. The silence from the room beyond is so loud that I am tempted to believe they have both left the room. I do not believe the King will turn away Millie’s tempting proposition.

With a shaking hand, I grasp the cool metal handle of the door and push inward. I take a step forward, bracing myself for what I will see.

Millie is on her knees before the King, staring up at him with hooded eyes, her fingers unlacing the front fastenings of her gown.

“Enough.” He says, putting out a hand to roughly grab her wrist, his eyes meet mine over the top of her head. There is a hungriness in his eyes, but they do not leave my gaze.

Millie looks up then, realizing the King is looking elsewhere, and turns quickly to look at me.

“You!” She shouts in a voice resembling both a whine and a scream. She stands quickly and makes a move as if she is going to run toward me, but the King reaches for her arm and pulls her back.

I am tempted to take a step back, but I hold my ground.

Millie pulls away from the King in large swinging movements, her fingers curl in a way that betrays her desire to claw at me.

“Control yourself, Madame, before I have you removed.” The King barks. Millie turns back toward him, rambling curses about me. I watch the King carefully as he listens to Millie. His shoulders are taught, his lips drawn together in a line. I search his face carefully for the strong desire I witnessed in the garden, but that earlier glimpse has vanished.

“…nevermind the fact that she clearly hates you. Why spend your life shackled to a sour wench who probably spent her days rutting in the barn with a stable hand…”

Before I have a chance to be offended, Millie’s vile words are cut off by a sickening crack and a scream of pain. The King’s hand has twisted what appears to be Millie’s pointer finger at an angle that can only mean it has been broken.

I glance quickly at the King whose face has transformed into heated rage. Millie sinks to the floor cradling her injured finger as she gasps for air between sobs.

The King bends down onto one knee above Millie, speaking so close to her that their noses almost touch.

“You will leave my presence. There will be no further words between us. You will act as if we have never known each other.” His voice is low and dangerous. It is a relief to hear his ire directed at someone else, but this is not as comforting as it should have been.

“Let your injury be a reminder that you should look to your own past before you point fingers at others.”

The King looks over Millie’s head at me and I do not dare to breathe.

“Come here, Desirey.” His voice is smooth, but demanding. I quickly approach him with a small curtsey. I make sure to walk in a wide arc around Millie.

The King reaches out to grasp my hand and I briefly think that he is about to break my finger too. Instead, he brings it to his lips and kisses in gently.

Millie sobs in front of us, glaring at me up through her tears.

“Lady Desirey has a reputation that is beyond reproach. She is worthy of her king. You will not repeat what you have said to me here. Is that understood?”

Millie continues to glare at me, but nods slightly, snot dripping from her nose.

I cannot help but look away, partly to save her the embarrassment of her deranged state, but also to avoid the furious glint in her eyes.

“Out. Now.” The King says, pulling his cold eyes away from Millie and drawing me back toward the fireplace.

I try not to watch as Millie stumbles up on to her feet, backing toward the door that I now know leads to the Queen’s apartments. The door is still thrown wide open, but what appears to be the King’s cloak pools on the floor near the opening.

It takes only a moment for me to realize that Millie truly must have arrived uninvited to the King’s rooms.

And if she was not welcome then, she must not have been welcome in the King’s arms out near the fountain, which would mean the King was, in fact, expecting to find me wrapped in his cloak.

A flush creeps up the back of my neck.

I turn to look at the King, but my movement is interrupted by Millie, who turns right before the passage.

She kicks violently at the King’s cloak lying on the floor before raising her chin and looking me squarely in the eye.

“You may have it, then. The cloak and the King. But know this, you will never please him the way I have and you will never be what I have been to him.”

Tears shine on her cheeks, but the fury in her face belies the fact that they are tears of pain and also of anger.

I open my mouth to speak, but the King’s hand around my waist stops me.

He stares down at me intently, his pupils dilated and full. He is looking at me, but he is speaking to Millie.

“She will be more than you have been, Madame. She will be your Queen, and this is the last time you will leave the room without kneeling at her feet.”

The conviction in his voice is both welcome and alarming.

With a loud swish of her gown, Millie is gone and I am left alone with the King.

There is silence after her departure. The King’s demeanor has changed and I am not sure how to respond to his strong rebuttal of Millie, and his stronger defense of me.

I decide on humble gratuity.

“Thank you, your majesty. You are kind to uphold my good name.” I swallow hard.

The King looks at me for a brief moment before drawing away from me toward a decanter of ale.

He pours himself a drink and tips his head back, long swallows straining the muscles in his throat. When he reaches for the decanter again, I move away toward the door to the queen’s rooms. Bending down, I scoop the King’s cloak out of the way before pulling the door closed, being careful of my fingers in the way the King showed me.

I glance toward the King who still has his back to me. I use this awkward silence to fold up the cloak, carefully. A faint smell of jasmine lingers, obviously Millie’s perfume. I take the folded cloak to the King’s massive bed and set it lightly at the foot.

“We have servants for that.”

The King speaks and I turn toward him. He points a long finger at the cloak, his glass of ale still held loosely in his hand.

I shrug a shoulder lightly.

“Disorder has never appealed to me. Hatfield Castle is immaculate thanks to my orders.”

The King eyes me carefully before stepping toward me. I stand still and try not to look at him.

He approaches the other side of bed and leans against one of the thick posts.

“Keeping a house in good order is a wifely trait.” He is staring at me intently.

“It is was one of the few things I was allowed to do there.”

“Tell me more of your training at Hatfield.” He smirks a little, downing the rest of his drink.

“Well..I continued to learn to read and write, mostly passages and translations from manuscripts. I can speak French, but my written capabilities are limited. There was a lack of tutors…” I chance another glance at him, wary of his interest in this time of my life.

He nods at me to continue.

“I was often bored and spent time outside tending the gardens with Anna. She had learned the properties of plants from her mother and taught them to me. It started off as a game and then I began to get quite good at memorizing their uses and the ways they could be tended into blooming or producing fruit. I have a strong memory. My tutors said I had an aptitude for memorization and learning.”

The King squints at me.

“Is that so? I should think I would have seen some flicker of this ability in you thus far, but, alas, you seem to have lost it. Much the pity.” There is an edge to his voice and I look up sharply.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You remember attributes of plants and can understand the academic arts better than many men, but you have proved you cannot memorize proper court etiquette and true fealty to your sovereign.”

His sharp tone is followed by a narrowing of his eyes.

My stomach clenches. It was too much to hope that his anger at Millie wouldn’t turn to anger with me.

“I-I do not understand what you mean…” I counter dumbly.

“You deliberately attempted to escape my presence this evening. I gave you an order to stay close enough for me to find you. Imagine my surprise when I found that you had not only cast off a very expensive garment belonging to me, but that you were nowhere to be found when I did come looking for you.”

He is still leaning on the post of his bed, but there is tension in the tilt of his shoulders that tells me he is ready to move if I do.

I force myself to stay in one place.

“I did nothing of the sort. Am I disallowed from walking outside? Or conversing with members of foreign royalty? If you wish to be obeyed, then you had best learn to declare your will ahead of time. Only a simpleton of a king would commute punishment on those that had broken rules placed retroactively…”

This was the wrong thing to say. His jaw is tense and I take a step away from him.

“You were not where you were told to be.” His steps follow mine as I continue to proceed backward.

“You did not seem too concerned about my whereabouts when I eventually returned to you.” I cannot help but remind him of what I saw by the fountain.

The King huffs air out of his nose.

“She was in my cloak. I thought she was you.”

I grunt in annoyance. “How convenient. But you still believe me to be at fault.”

His eyebrows furrow and he reaches for me, but I step back more quickly. This time he does not follow. Instead he crosses his arms and stares down at me.

“I will not apologize. I am the King. It was an innocent mistake.”

His unsaid comparison hangs in the air, fueling my irritation.

“We look nothing alike. She is a disgrace to her husband, her family name, and this court. We could not be further apart from one another, and yet you compare us as if we are one in the same.”

I clench my jaw.

This could turn out poorly if I do not get a grip on my fury. The shock of him breaking Millie’s finger is starting to wear off. He is capable of a level of violence that could be extended to me at any moment.

Will he hurt me if I do not gain some control of my mouth?

The King takes a deep breath in through his nose and his lips twitch.

I wait, glaring up at him.

His mouth twitches again, before his lips break open to reveal his crooked smile and he begins to laugh. It is a low sound, but his amusement is genuine.

I shift uncomfortably and take another step away from him. What in the world could be funny?

He sucks in another breath and smiles at me, coyly.

“You are jealous of her. No wonder you have behaved like a wild animal. Feminine envy is a different kind of madness that I will never understand.” His smile is triumphant.

I start to stammer out a reply, but the King turns his back to me and goes back to refill his drink.

“There is no need for you to proceed with your protests, Desirey. I have seen this many times before and although your breeding is far superior to any woman I have dealt with, you are not immune to that which plagues all women: intolerance of competition.” He looks over his glass at me as he drinks.

I huff, annoyed.

“If you believe that I am jealous of that immoral woman then you are-“

“Absolutely correct.” He interjects.

“My little bride wants me all to herself. Lucky for you, you have succeeded in forcing my hand to remove Millie. She has proved herself unworthy of the title of maîtresse-en-titre.”

He pauses before he drinks again, eyes dark over the glass.

“I do not like to be disobeyed.”

His voice drops dangerously low and I feel the warning in his words.

“I am willing to have patience with one who does not know better, or, in your case, one who must be trained. But there is no excuse for Millie. She has known me far more intimately and should have kept her peace.”

He swallows more of his drink. There is faraway look in his eyes before he darts them back to me.

“All is not lost though. She leaves behind a more that suitable replacement. And a legal one at that.”

He turns around and places his glass on the table. His hand move to the decanter and he makes as if to pour another drink, but pauses at the last second. He shifts and looks down at the decanter, before tossing his head back and drinks straight from the ale decanter. This is when I realize that the King is well on his way to becoming drunk. There is jerkiness to his hand movements that I had not recognized earlier.

“Would you like some?” He asks, tilting the decanter toward me like he did during dinner.

I am wary of getting close to him again, but these massive mood shifts can only be the result of his having imbibed a copious amount of alcohol. Perhaps it is best to keep him in a conciliatory mood.

As much I want to continue to argue about his statements about me and Millie, I give him a little nod and approach. I reach for the decanter, but he pulls back. His free hand pushes some hair from by my neck, behind my shoulder.

“Allow me.” His voice is low and his eyes are bright.

I blink at him before pushing out my neck, just the slightest bit in order for him to bring the decanter to my lips. He tilts it up as I tilt my head back and begin to drink. The ale comes out quickly and I try not to let it spill out of my mouth. After a long drink, I begin to pull my head back, but the Kings eyes are on me and he pushes the glass decanter harder against my lips.

My teeth are being pushed against painfully by the glass rim, but I dare not pull away. I try to take small swallows, but they stream is flowing quickly enough that every swallow is immediately replaced. The King watches me swallow until I am overcome with the need to breathe. I cough and pull away at the same time, ale stains the fabric of my dress as it drips down my chin.

“Enough, please.” I sputter. I raise the back of my hand to my chin to catch the moisture. Before I can wipe my hand on the fabric of my gown, the King grabs my wrist and pulls me flush against him.

His lips are suddenly against mine, the ale lubricating my mouth and making his kiss sloppy and slick. I try to pull away, but the King pulls me close to him. My left arm is trapped under the King’s, but I pull my wet hand up and push it against his shoulder. I try to wiggle away as the King starts to kiss down my neck.

“Please, you are drunk!”

The King laughs into my collarbone.

“I find that while I am no longer thirsty, I am furiously hungry.” The King pushes against me again, bending my spine backward, his groin firmly pressed against my stomach.

“Get off!”

His free hand is sliding up to my left breast and I grab feebly at his wrist.

“I told you someone would need to warm my bed after Millie had gone. Am I to believe there is another candidate besides yourself that you might approve of?”

His words slur just the slightest bit, and the weight of the ale decanter bounces off the back of my thigh. His grip has loosened with the groping of my body.

The King laughs again. “I will take your silence as consent…” His mouth comes down on mine again and he forces his tongue past my lips. The taste of ale is overwhelming and the size of him bending over me is so forceful that I fear I might fall over.

I pull myself back in an effort to get away, but come dangerously close to falling onto the floor. The angle the King is holding me in leaves me vulnerable and trapped. The King’s hand is pushing at the stays of my bodice, forcing my breast painfully up and out of my gown.

I move my leg back and feel the decanter knock against my thigh. Just as the King’s fingers begin to scoop my breast out. He pulls back and moves his head down to my breast, but before his mouth can reach the soft skin of my décolletage, I kick behind me at the ale decanter.

My kick was stronger than I had anticipated, but is enough to startle the King into letting go of me.

The decanter smashes on the floor behind us as the ale pools into one of the King’s rich carpets. I quickly step back toward the door to the King’s antechamber, intent upon running the entire way back to my room. The King is silent behind me as I wrench the door open and run straight into the back of one of the Knights of Ren.

I crash painfully into the staff he holds horizontally in front of him. He uses it to push me back into the room. I fall back onto my hands with a yelp of surprise as the knight enters the room.

The knight glances at me briefly before addressing the King.

“Is your Majesty quite well? I heard glass breaking and approached to secure the safety of you person.” The knight shifts his head from side to side, checking the space behind me.

The King’s voice behind me light, but firm.

“All is well, my good man. Drink has made me clumsy and Mistress Lancaster has chided me for both offenses. Ladies are above such transgressions apparently.” He laughs good naturedly and the Knight’s posture relaxes as he laughs with the King.

“Of course, your Majesty. Forgive my intrusion. Shall I call a groom to clean the mess?”

“No need to bother them. I shall clear the space myself. Let the groom have some peace. I am no stranger to some spilled ale.” He laughs again and I am struck by how easily he can convince others of his falsities.

He is an impeccable actor. It is a credit to his kingship.

I dig my fingers painfully into the carpet.

“Turn in from your shift early tonight and get yourself a flagon of ale from the kitchens for just yourself. You have proved your care and loyalty.” The King booms.

The knight smiles brightly at the King and makes a move to turn around, but stops to look back at me.

“Shall I escort the Lady to her chamber before I go?” His voice is polite and firm, confirmation of his understanding of my false freedom and the King’s orders.

I push myself up off the floor to make ready to go, shaking my skirts around me, but the King has moved up close behind me and lays a hand on my shoulder. I try not to flinch.

“Not until we have resolved our Lover’s Quarrel. I shall not pay the price of her ire for longer than necessary.” He winks at the knight before looking down at me with a smile.

“Of course, Majesty. Good Evening to your highness and her ladyship.” The knight smiles and salutes the King before bowing and closing the door behind him.

The sound of his boots on the floor disappear rapidly.

I look up slowly and meet the King’s eyes. They are hard, but there is a softness around his mouth.

“You are beginning to gain a reputation for breaking objects that do not belong to you.”

I swallow and try to pull away, but his hand is firm.

“Clean it up.” His fingers dig painfully into the soft flesh of my arm before he pushes me back toward the soiled rug and glass.

I stumble toward the mess, but catch myself before I step into the wetness.

“With what?” I dare an angry look back at him.

The King smiles. “You kept a clean house at Hatfield. I will expect you to do the same here.”

“We have servants for that.” My lips curl as I throw his earlier words back at him.

He takes step toward me and I shame myself by taking a further step back.

“The Bible tells us that a wife is a servant to her husband.” His lips are stretched in a smile, but his eyes are hard.

“I am not your wife.” I hiss, fists clenching.

He smirks as he crosses his arms.

“For now…but for tonight I am your King and you will do as you are told.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you (like seriously, THANK YOU) for your patience with this chapter. I was caught at a bit of a block and had to fight my way through what I thought would be a quick scene. I have been mulling this over, writing and deleting and writing again.   
> This is truly a labor of my own personal fantasy and while I write for myself, I do genuinely feel guilt for the delay that I know has probably annoyed many of you.   
> Please know that your kind responses to a story that is my daily escape is far more than I have ever expected. 
> 
> Be well!


	23. Cleaning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desirey encounters a mess in the King's room and within her own thoughts.

Dejectedly I approach the mess on the carpet. The glass from the ale decanter has broken in large pieces, but I am wary of stepping on any shards.

I carefully lift my skirts to use my foot to toe a large piece of glass toward another in an attempt at a pile.

The floor is a mess, but can be cleaned with a firm hand.

“I will need a cloth and bowl of water, preferably cold. And a bucket, for the glass.” I am matter of fact. The sooner I am done, the sooner he may allow me to leave. 

The King’s mouth twitches, but he does not smile.

Within moments he has called for the necessary items and a servant delivers them with astonishing speed. The young man who bring them to King does not spare even a cursory glance toward me as he sets the items on the King’s table.

I am annoyed at his indifference.

“Perhaps I am not the only one who breaks things in this room, judging by the way your man ignores a soiled carpet.” I cannot resist the jibe.

The King sighs as he clasps his hands behind his back.

“A King is never questioned by those beneath him. Have you learned nothing from me yet?”

I laugh bitterly. “Oh I have learned _much_ from you, my lord.” I bite my bottom lip to keep from saying more.

I turn away from him, sweeping my scarlet gown out of the way before I begin to kneel on the floor. I decide to collect the pieces furthest from the puddle of ale.

“Ah..ah..ahhhh..” The King calls from where he stands by his chair.

“You will not soil your gown.”

I pause, mid descent.

“I will take every precaution.”

My knee is about to meet the floor when the King speaks again.

“Remove it.”

I stop for just a moment before standing up again.

“Remove what?” I say, too loudly, too rudely.

He moves toward me with just a few strides.

“My gown.” His jaw is tight.

“Last I checked, I am the one wearing it so it must be _my_ gown.” I am annoyed with his overly possessive attitude and I want him to know it.

“It is the property of the Crown. And since I am conveniently the one wearing it, the gown is mine.”

“Perhaps you should wear the gown too.” I bite back, but stop myself from getting too angry. His mouth is twitching playfully again and I thank the drink in his blood for making him somewhat affable.

“Do you need my help?” His tone is innocent, but his eyes are locked on my waist.

“Absolutely not.” I hurry behind the dressing screen and begin to pull at the laces and pieces of the gown. I mentally thank the King and his father for my years at Hever and learning self sufficiency. There are many women at court who would be in tears should they need to undress themselves.

The layers of scarlet fabric fall to the floor until I am left in my shifts and padded petticoats.

I drag the layers of clothing around the screen and toss them unceremoniously on the floor. I begin to walk toward the mess when the King stops me with his words.

“Ah..ah. You are still overdressed. All of that must go too.” His eyes are wide and appraising from where he still stands, leaning against his large chair.

“No.” I put my hands on my hips.

I watch as his shoulders rise and then relax. He looks away from me, before pushing off from the chair and approaching.

“You will follow my orders, or I will remove your garments myself.” His eyes are blazing with irritation. “I would prefer you clean in the nude, but I will not be accused of being ungallant.”

This is enough to send me back behind the screen. I emerge in only the corset and my under shift and stockings. I am grateful for the length and thickness of this shift, one that was clearly designed to help me stay warm under the thin taffeta of the scarlet gown. 

I hold my arms out from my sides in a gesture of mock presentation. “Is my attire acceptable for the part of maidservant, your grace?”

The King grins, his mouth lopsided and playful.

“If only all maidservants looked like you. I would be content to watch them scrub the floors of the Great Hall for hours.” He laughs loudly.

I ignore him and make my way again to the pile of glass. I assess the mess and use one of the cloths brought by the manservant to carefully collect all pieces of the glass. Using the cold water and a rag, I begin to blot at the stain on the carpet, before scrubbing it vigorously.

The carpet is thick and while I can smell the ale coming up from the fibers. I begin to use the weight of my back and hips to propel me forward and backward to pull out the rest of the liquid. The King will have no complaints about the state of his carpet.

There is a soft inhale from the King, which prompts me to look up at him from my place at the floor. He has turned his large chair away from the fire in order to sit and watch as I clean.

There is a strange look on his face, almost like a grimace. I look down carefully at the stain and feel my heart drop at the thought that he is angry with my cleaning technique. I turn carefully to my side to check for more stains when I catch a glimpse of myself in the King’s large mirror.

My hair is decidedly disheveled, but I realize the King’s jewels still hang from my ears and my neck, catching in the firelight. They draw attention to the fact that my downward angle has presented my breasts just short of revealing my nipples.

I shift quickly back on my heels and glare at him .

“It is as clean as possible. May I be dismissed?” I rise and cross my arms over my chest.

The King blinks at me. Both of his hands are gripping the arms of his chair and I am at once concerned for his self control.

His desire for me is obvious.

Our eyes meet and the fire in his almost makes me sink to the floor.

“Allow me to make an inspection.” He rises from his chair and approaches me.

He chances a brief glance at the carpet before his eyes snap back to me.

“Your work is acceptable. Although I think it is time for this carpet to be beaten an aired according to the cleaning schedule. It is convenient that this replacement will take place tomorrow morning.” He steps a little closer to me.

“What? Why have me clean it if maintenance is due to be completed tomorrow!” I am incredulous. The nerve of this man.

He laughs at me, still jovial, but also predatory at the same time.

“The image of you on your hands and knees was too hard to pass up. Rest assured that it will keep me company in my mind longgg after you leave tonight.”

I stiffen as he comes close enough to press a kiss to my bare shoulder. He smiles into my skin.

“The servants will need to remove my sheets as well as my rug tomorrow, what with the imminent stains…”

Back in my room, I stare blankly at my reflection in my looking glass. I’ve managed to brush out my hair and get dressed in a warm night dress. The coals in my fire are just beginning to lick the logs that will bring further warmth into my room.

The King’s rooms are certainly warmer than my current arrangements and I feel hopeful that the Queen’s rooms will be further to my taste in temperature when the time arrives. I am grateful that the King seems to want me moved as soon as possible, which will be to the benefit of my chilled toes.

And to the benefit of the King’s lust.

I look in the mirror as an image of the King comes unbidden into my mind. My cheeks burn with even my limited understanding of what happens between a man and woman, but there is a further catch in my throat when I imagine what the King will do tonight…as he thinks of me.

I place my head in my hands as I consider my situation.

Millie has been set aside and will be removed from my mother’s rooms, _my_ rooms. This should feel triumphant, but I am still filled with a sense of dread. I am trading my cold room for my birthright, and a husband.

What kind of husband will he be?

I bite my lip as I consider, but I already know the answer to that question. He will be demanding and controlling. He will take his roles as my husband and King far more seriously than my father would have.

He has already proved his inclination to violence and seduction.

I swallow hard and stare again in the mirror.

He will take his pleasure in my body, no matter how hard I fight him.

My eyelids flutter faintly.

He will _enjoy it_ when I fight him.

He will hurt me in one moment and then lavish me with jewels in the next.

Well.

I shift a little uncomfortably.

His violence has not always been followed by immediate kindness. But, to his credit, he has been softer in the time following our arguments.

I cannot forget his soft kisses and gentle caresses…

My cheeks flush again and I look away from the twin red imprints reflected back at me.

This is all far more difficult to bear than I could have ever imagined. In the space of a few days, I have been removed from exile and rushed into a betrothal with a man I have learned to despise and fear in equal measure.

I glance back in the mirror and wonder how this change of fate might have played out if the King’s father had lived to preside over our union. If the King would have chaffed at his father’s orders or if he would have walked into our arrangement just as jovially.

I frown at myself.

Perhaps if I had been born deformed and ugly he would have heartily dissented and left me to my devices.

I chuckle a little at the thought of how the King might respond if my nose were crooked and my teeth had fallen out due to bad care. He would have surely run in the opposite direction.

I let out a small sigh and even smaller laugh at the thought of the King despising me in return. Perhaps his father did not want to deal with the headache of an unhappy heir and his even unhappier bride, so he allowed the King to bear the brunt of my fury.

Or perhaps the old king was afraid.

My eyes sparkle in the mirror as I lift my chin.

He could not have known that I would not take to the idea of marrying his son. What if we had gone gladly to our honeymoon in the country and returned with an army to overthrow him?

I swallow hard, thinking of how I would look at the head of an army of military men, ordering the execution of the man who murdered my father.

This fantasy is appealing and I allow myself to linger on it.

The thundering hooves of thousands of horses, lieutenants calling their men to arms, the clash of swords and the thud of drawbridges being pulled down for my entrance.

My head, bowing, as the Crown of Estate is placed over my hair in the hallowed halls of Westminster Abbey, where I am presented to my nation. The roar of the crowds outside eclipsing the applause of my gathered nobles as I look from one face to another until they rest on my husband, seated within our twin thrones. I raise my golden scepter aloft while my free hand curves over my belly, caressing the child growing within me…

I am jolted back to reality. I shake my head quickly to clear my thoughts. My right hand has traveled to the flat expanse of my stomach.

I feel nauseated at my own foolishness and imagination.

Standing quickly, I move toward the fireplace and crouch down to warm myself. My cheeks burn against the glow of the fire, the flush a result of my own embarrassment and shame.

I have imagined this scene in my head so many times, especially when I was old enough to believe that it could happen, and even long after I began to know it was impossible.

And yet, minus the military coup, this image floats just within my grasp. I will be Queen without any blood spilled.

I will be accepted by the nobility and the neighboring nations and the people will have their guilty consciences eased, should they feel any remorse for the events of my childhood.

And my belly will be filled with an heir, by the man my brain has so seamlessly placed within my fantasy.

I press a hand against my throat.

For a moment, a single solitary moment, my heart leapt at the thought of a life of contentment and honor, of my rightful place.

And a tall dark haired man, filling my throne and my belly.

The King’s hand is wrapped warmly around mine at Mass the next morning. My sleep was fitful and I am hoping for time to sleep this afternoon.

I arrived at the King’s rooms this morning to dress. We exchanged pleasantries, but not much else. Lady Nora was waiting for me when I arrived, a gown of dark green silk in her arms.

I had glared at the King for what I perceived as a purposeful lack of choice. His face gave away nothing, but he had taken a few steps forward, as if he were willing to help Lady Nora with my change.

Needless to say, I had quickly removed myself to the space behind the screen without a word.

The King’s attention at Mass is rapt and unwavering. I try to concentrate on the words of Cardinal Winterburn, but my hand is starting to feel moist and clammy. I long to pull it away from the King, but will not risk the repercussions, should a member of the court notice.

I bow my head in prayer and let my eyes drift blissfully closed.

Perhaps a nap right after Mass rather than later. Yes, that would be most appropriate.

The Cardinals voice is droning and somewhere behind me a lady of the court seems to be shaking her leg, making the skirts of her gown whisper across the flagstones. The noise is rather pleasant, the soft swish swish is enough to lull one into sleep…

The King’s hand squeezes mine and I shift abruptly in my seat.

He looks at me, his lips part as he leans closer to me to speak in my ear.

“You are falling asleep.” He grits between his teeth, his annoyance apparent.

I am tempted to look behind me to see if anyone has noticed, but fear that I will look bored and insolent.

I turn purposely toward him, arranging my features into that of pious confusion, as if I am simply asking my future husband a question about religious doctrine.

“My apologies. I did not sleep well.”

His mouth twitches.

“If you find my shoulder so comfortable, perhaps you’d like to retire with me for an afternoon of slumber?”

His eyes are bright as he looks away from me, back toward the altar.

I try not to bristle.

“You are indecent.” I follow his gaze and try not to move my lips.

“And you are disrespectful to your worldly and heavenly sovereigns.” He is annoyed again, he tone preachy and clipped.

I bite the inner corner of my mouth and dare to pull my hand from his, where I clasp it in my lap in calm supplication.

I chance a look at him as we kneel to receive the Cardinal’s blessing for the day. The King’s jaw is set as he stares straight forward and I wonder if I have once again transgressed enough to earn a punishment.

Minutes later, the King leads me back through the chapel and onward toward his rooms. His knights clink softly behind us and I wonder if he will insist on us breaking our fast together.

“May I take your leave to rest?” I ask, lightly. We pass a row of windows where the sun is barely shining through the thick clouds. Dull and foggy days have always made for restful sleep for me.

The King does not speak, but continues to walk purposefully toward his rooms.

I try again.

“I will be too exhausted to join you for tea if I cannot get some rest now.”

“If you are too tired for tea then you may sleep in my rooms while I work. You will not be excused from our appointment.” He does not turn to look at me, but he reaches for my hand and tucks it possessively into the crook of his arm.

He is being intentionally stubborn.

“If I am not allowed to take even a small respite, then I must have important duties to attend to.” I let the unasked question hang in the air.

He looks at me from the corner of his eye.

“I had thought you’d like to further inspect your new rooms at the earliest opportunity, after all the fuss you caused about them. But if you would rather waste your day sleeping…”

I stop and stare up at him.

“Truly? They are ready?” I cannot keep the excitement from my voice. He must have ordered the workers to proceed with haste. Or had Millie simply been stalling?

He stares down at me in return and gives a brief nod.

My lips break into a wide smile and I toss my hair behind me, excitedly.

“Yes, yes! Of course I must see. May we go at once?” I feel like a child during Yuletide.

The King’s face betrays nothing. I tug impatiently at his arm, reaching my free hand to grasp his forearm.

“Please, your Majesty?” I try, my desire to inspect my rooms free of the venomous gaze of Millie is too hard to resist.

His mouth twitches as he pulls my hand off of his forearm.

“Collect yourself, Desirey. You are at court, not the harvest festival.” His eyebrows pull down in annoyance.

I huff, softly.

“Pardon me, your Majesty. I had forgotten how glum this court is. I shall endeavor to mimic your sour disposition.” I roll my eyes at him, hoping he can take the jest.

His lips are pursed and barely open as he speaks. His eyes bore into mine.

“Careful…”

He pulls my arm tightly into the crook of his and leads me forward to his chambers. When we arrive at his doors I feel my stomach lurch in excitement. Will he let me go to my apartments alone?

I think quickly about asking if Anna may join me, but he draws me through the doors before I can ask.

They close heavily behind us and the King walks lazily through his receiving chamber. I follow dutifully, wondering if he is going to give me the heavy gold key to my rooms. I remember my mother having hers put on a length of blue silk ribbon. She carried it proudly on her person and forbade others from entry on days she wanted privacy.

The King moves forward. When I do not follow, he turns and snaps his fingers at me.

“Keep apace, Desirey.”

I rush forward, ignoring his dour attitude.

We arrive in the room with his great desk. I pause to see if he will collect the key from one of the drawers, but he move purposely forward into his bedchamber.

“Am I not to see my rooms…?” I rush after him.

“I believe that is what I said to you.”

“But then why are we…”

The King shrugs out of his court jacket and hangs it over one of his chairs.

“Enough!” He barks over his shoulder. I am immediately still.

“You are incessantly annoying today.”

I bristle at his words.

“Then grant me leave to remove my offending self from your presence. I am capable of entering a room without being dragged.” I lift my chin.

“Out of the question.”

I cannot help myself. I move toward him.

“What is the matter with you today? When I left you last night you were familiar and…”

He turns toward me and I get a clearer look at him. There are slight dark circles under his eyes and a grayish pallor to his already pale skin.

“You are ill.” I say, flatly. All that ale from last night. He has the sickness of too much drink.

He swallows and looks away, eyelids fluttering briefly.

My own mouth twitches as I try not smile. This great King, enduring the consequences of too much indulgence at his own hand.

“You should sleep. You will feel better.”

“And leave you to make mischief in my castle? Once again, out of the question.” He runs his hands through his hair.

My earlier amusement at his condition vanishes. This will not be a pleasant day for me.

“Then I must wait here for you to….improve?”

I walk toward one of the windows, gazing out at the bleak day that once held promise of rest, but now seems dull and uninteresting.

“My, you are an impatient thing.”

I do not turn around.

“I do not appreciate being teased.” I mutter, tossing my hair impatiently.

Glancing out the window, I see a few men moving toward the stables, their heads bent against the cooler air as they slip through the fog. I long to join them in their freedom.

“I have to agree.” The King grunts. He sounds annoyed again.

I turn toward him slightly. “That is not what I meant.”

He has unbuttoned his black vest and is rolling up the sleeves on his doublet. His state of undress is unnerving. I turn by back fully toward the window.

“Perhaps if you were less demanding, I would be more inclined to grant you your requests.”

I lift my chin. “I was raised to have my orders followed.”

His large hand continues to roll his sleeve up his forearm, even at our distance I can see the dusty brown hair on his arms. I am momentarily distracted with the thought of what they might feel like, brushing up against my arms. Is the hair coarse? Or downy soft like my own?

“You have lived at the mercy of others for many years, do not act as if you held court at Hatfield. We both know that to be false.”

My eyes snap up to his face, all thoughts of soft brushing skin forgotten.

“If you are hoping for me to argue with you today, you will be disappointed. I am much too tired.”

His eyes meet mine, his arms dropping to his sides before he approaches.

I put my hands behind my back, palms scrapping against the stone of the window’s ledge, as I press myself into the wall.

He stops and looks down at me and even with the dull light of the meager sun filtering through the window, I see more clearly the array of browns that make up his dark irises.

I blink, shaking my head slightly and look away.

It frustrates me when he does not speak. He stares at me in a way that is overly familiar, almost predatory. What is he looking at?

He reaches out toward my waist and I am about to protest, when his hand slides past the curve of my side, back into the loose ends of my hair.

He runs his fingers through the ends, catching a few lengths before letting them slip through his fingers.

I look past him, waiting for him to step back.

“You are quite the distraction.”

“Perhaps you would allow me to leave so that you may complete your daily tasks. I can find my way to my new chambers, having been there many times before…” I cannot resist this minor dig.

His hand tugs a large amount of hair into his fist. It is not enough to hurt, but it brings my eyes back to his.

“You will obey me and cease your incessant arguments. Or you will content yourself to remain with me in my rooms for the full hours of each day until you learn to do so. I have no qualms about tying you to a chair while I turn my attention to affairs of state.”

I glare up at him and try to pull my hair from his, but he wraps his hands around another long length, forcing me to tilt my head further back.

I feel myself deflate. He surely will not allow me to go to the Queen’s Apartments today. His mood being what it is.

I try to reason with him.

“If I sit quietly, can I still see my rooms?” My voice sounds pitifully small. What has this man turned me into? A simpering courtier begging for a reward.

He looks down at me as if carefully assessing my words.

“We shall see if you can manage to do anything quietly.”

I purse my lips, defiantly.

If he wants silence, he will get it. His mouth twitches up into a smirk as he lets go of my hair, purposely sliding his hand around my waist and squeezing my hip before removing his hand.

“Ah, she thinks to punish me with her silence.” His voice lifts, teasing me.

I cross my arms and step around him, seating myself carefully into his large chair by the fire.

He looks at me, amused, but says nothing further. He moves toward the door to his private receiving chamber and pushes it open fully.

“I’ll be in here attending to business. You can expect our meal to be delivered within the hour. Is there anything you’d like to request?”

I open up my mouth to say that I do not wish to eat with him, but remember my new pact to remain silent until he takes me to my rooms.

I shake my head slowly.

The King laughs and turns away from me, walking toward the side of the chamber containing his desk.

“Sweet silence. What a blessing.”


End file.
